poems – Press Send Poetry

Garlic Bulb Miracle

Written back in 2020 while I was on pandemic furlough … seems like a perfect post for today!

Dark kitchen corner,

a forgotten

bulb bursts

open. Single green

arm reaches out

and instantly air

like a rush of

electricity zips

down verdant

limb, a first breath

of vast unknown.

Rustle imperceptible

of former self, there is

no going back, only

brave burgeoning start.

creation is not a quiet stuttering dance

I never thought of you.

I never imagined it. And I always thought you could create a life
Like you construct yourself,
In the dark, with your hands in the air of a dream.

But no. When it snows and is silent, bones are ancient with
truth like skies so cold all of us reaching our hands up in the dark
shudder in realization:
creation is not a quiet stuttering dance.
It is our stars bent on self-destruction, it is anything but a dream.