Author: Margaret Coombs

Esos fueron días hermosos pero no tuve una voz solo tuve el poder de mi cuerpo, mi amor mis besos y mis caricias pero sin voz me sentí vacío un libro sin palabras un mente sin pensamientos una vida sin objetivo eventualmente me fui mis amores y mis amigos mis padres y mis hermanas los…

emergency testevery Saturday at noona screaming sirenmy husband covers his earshow do the trees withstand it?*winter’s sunny dayeleven waxwings flit–a peeping cedar *dinner date with spousetwo mediocre disheshome welcomes us back*our Norway Mapleappears newly bedraggledbald limbs and fresh wounds*please tell me, Maplethe valentine’s balloon foundhanging from your branch–which anonymous loverremoved your bark and pierced you?*if…

so many mistakeseverything I do is wrong–snow falling through boughs▪︎ I stare into airemotionally bereft–the poem written▪︎ a blue and white worldblue sky, white roofs, blue shadowssnow’s transformations▪︎ inches of new snow–my husband shovels a pathto the bird feeders▪︎▪︎

log piles in the parkthe emerald ash borersteals trees from children

the fiddle player eyes shut, he senses music sweats out glissandos February sun another easy winter black shadows and mud Hass called it sacred– the struggle of facing doom each frigid blizzard old goddesses pelting us with snow showers, ice pellets