Like Bare Elision
 
The windowpane answers
the question with an echo--
the rain spilling out
of the sill. One last exhale.
What was the question?
I make you the night,
dream of  the storm
that swallowed you whole
& carry a box of ashes
over the threshold.
*first published in Bear Review

echo

 

girl of one

spoken word

girl of another's

word girl

of the river

canyon

Echo dwells

in a shadow

of cliffs artful in taking

the last

few words

only the last

few words as

her own echo

listen

her mouth is yours

a cave full of

reverb claim

the final word

her own

she opens up

merely sound

opens up

her voice your

voice skips over

a veil of water

Echo returns

a song she sings

your song sings

Ghost sings the canyon

*first published in Sprung Formal XII

--Drawing No. 13, 1915

Poem made Long After the Situation

 

It was more about the dream

of falling.

 

My foot raised in the air

to step off,

 

the fright of the day,

 

standing on an edge

at Palo Duro.

 

With a walking stick in hand

to steady—

 

I spotted a long line of cows,

they looked

 

like widow’s

lace on the canyon trail below.

published in Lily Poetry Review Winter 2019

Far from Home

 

She picks a conch shell out

of the pile in the terra cotta pot.

 

Thousands of miles from its home

and still the shell spills sand

 

from its center. She wants to crawl

in, cup a beach in her hands.

 

Listen to the prose of the ocean—

 

Tell me about your emptiness.

Tell me about the moonrise.

 

How blue is your home.

published at http://typishly.com/2018/04/16/far-from-home/

Brief Respite from the Rain

 

She believes she is herself, which isn’t complete madness, it’s belief…

a surface of water in an uninhabited world…

you wouldn’t think of her form by thinking about water…

                        --Mei-Mei Berssenbrugge

 

sidewalk puddles ponding

after the rain

 

the shards reflect trunk & limbs

a slight dawn of

 

sky peeks of pinks & blue

nimbus spring

 

the scent of warm wood

steeps in still air

 

this morning my antithesis

falls

 

into the pooled mirror

a better universe

 

straddled between seasons

the spectre of

 

a looking glass I gaze in

& remember I am

 

water in a younger world

I could disappear in concentric ripples

published in Nature in the Now

       © 2019 by Chell Navarro. Proudly created with Wix.com

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