On The Bridge
Take down the pictures from the wall, and catch
the nails that fall away as they’re pulled, and
dream of where they will go next.
When he fled, did you dream of comfort, of
feeling the love that hid in the spray
from his favorite waterfall?
You are changing, it can’t be helped, bending
down to murmur the feeling into the
souls of others who nod solace.
Stacks of boxes and empty cupboards are
waiting, but your will is sleeping
as, beneath you, far below
in the water, all that you know is sailing
on, towards the place where the
water falls, fearless.
.
The Third of May
In the open air are found the scents I crave,
the heavy richness of wet maple leaves,
the waft of cinnamon toast escaping
someone’s window into the wind of
morning
In the open air is the clarity that comes with
running fingers across the sleek but
stiff fir on the flank of a horse, or the
glimpse of a cloud so white you stop
and wait for it to flutter down and settle
on your bed
In the open air, away from all things closed
in, is where and when the stars come to
visit and tell tales of worlds unknown
and yet familiar, and no matter what
would hold you, your dance creates
an infinite stage for movement
In the open air you stand in the center of
a meadow, head thrown back, hearing
the stories that stars tell, feeling the near
distance of boundaries, horizons that
are never reachable
And in the open air, you sit by a dark
lakeshore and write that you feel as
though you are in a room, that you
like being alive and then, in the
open air, simply find your
sleep.
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Judith Mikesch-McKenzie is a writer, teacher, actor, and producer. She holds a Masters in Creative Writing, with years teaching college writing. . She has traveled widely, but is always drawn to the Rocky Mountains as one place that feeds her soul. Writing is her home. Her poetry has appeared in or is upcoming in Calyx – A Journal of Art and Literature by Women, Her Words, Plainsongs Magazine, Hole In the Head Review, Clackamas Literary Review, and over 40 others. She is a wee bit of an Irish curmudgeon, but her friends seem to like that about her.
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Stone Poetry Quarterly 