Sample Poems by Jennifer MacPherson
This is not a new unhappiness
It has followed me
everywhere
since the day we met, sea
lapping around our ankles, sun
pulling at our ears.
It whimpers
underneath my pillow
at midnight
when moonlight seeps below
the curtains of my room and crosses
my face with stars,
an animal I could pet
if it were small enough.
If it were starved.
Christmas Eve
Geese, late starters,
honk their way south
all week long.
Winter breathes despite cries
of late birds, sputter of rain,
drafts a poem I must write.
Like all poems,
it will be about bones, how they break
and are set in imperfect, finite lines.
It will be about hours
that blink at the sun,
years combed through our hair like rivers,
and hope, that great white bird
lodged between our shoulders,
how it learns to fly.
Rosary of Bones
Easy to praise
when it's green and fresh
and the air smells ironed.
Easy to open hands,
spill seeds, tamp soil,
like my grandmother before me
who saw angels in the rain.
Now that I have become
my grandmother
I wrestle with weeds and words,
fling the rake around.
The world has evolved
into a truly stubborn place,
a curse of rocks to trip my feet.
I haven't seen angels for years
and I need them in my garden:
soil with its stony crop,
worms among the roses.
But here I count
the bones that work,
the springing summer hours.
I give thanks for leaves,
for autumn's bronze
and winter's grace:
snow's white confection
erasing even as it is erased.
This peace. This praise.
Amen.