[Every Monday (until I run out of them), I’m posting a poem of mine that has fallen out from the submission process for some reason. In most cases, it will be one where I’ve received no response to my submission for at well over a year or more. Maybe the magazine I submitted them to has folded, the submission was lost in the post, or whatever. So, these poems can be seen as lost, orphans, of uncertain status, or something like that.]
Kneeling
a ghost of memory.
On some sun-defined morning
I could have found her there,
kneeling by a limpid rock pool
holding her long black hair
back with one hand,
as she stared, still,
into the deep of the pool
seeking through light-sharpened water
for some significant shell or stone.
No comments:
Post a Comment