jornales

for a moment of joy or moments no one pays for, i give myself a ‘jornal’. this makes me rich. try it.

Mirage

 

Shredded blooms,

hair parted in the wind,

the pavement wavering—

my cane unwilling

to step with me.

 

Light shimmers ahead

I swear I am on solid land.

But the air has turned into water

and I suddenly shed tears—

but I’m not crying.

 

The girl behind me

races a breeze and she stumbles.

My cane falls but I remain

suspended between air

and water uncertain—

 

I think I’m flying,

flying with the sparrows:

could they be lost?

Or falling wingless like the moths

from a pink tree.

 

Oh, my cane tiptoes

back to me winged, its crook a hand,

growing fingers, prodding me

to rise. I rise, stilled                                           

between white air and water                           

 

—the ground at least, has

ceased spinning.

 

by Alegria Imperial (Canada)

Honorable Mention

Passager Poetry Contest, 2007

 

also featured at Charlotte diGregorio’s blog for writers

May 24, 2020 - Posted by | Uncategorized

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