Hello Friends,
It’s the end of poetry month! Thank you so much for joining me this month. I hope you encountered a poem or two that spoke to you. I have one last piece for you by Camonghne Felix to conclude 30 days, 30 poems, 30 poets.
Enjoy.
Ællen
It’s the end of poetry month! Thank you so much for joining me this month. I hope you encountered a poem or two that spoke to you. I have one last piece for you by Camonghne Felix to conclude 30 days, 30 poems, 30 poets.
Enjoy.
Ællen
Born. Living. Will. Die.
for my favorite auntie, Jeanette
Sometimes I think I’m never going to write a poem
again
and then there’s a full moon.
I miss being in love but I miss
myself most when I’m gone.
In the salty wet air of my ancestry
my auntie peels a mango with her teeth
and I’m no longer
writing political poems; because there are
mangoes and my favorite memory is still alive.
I’m digging for meaning but haunted by purpose
and it’s an insufficient approach.
What’s the margin of loss on words not spent today?
I’m getting older. I’m buying smaller images to travel light.
I wake up, I light up, I tidy, and it’s all over now.
■
for my favorite auntie, Jeanette
Sometimes I think I’m never going to write a poem
again
and then there’s a full moon.
I miss being in love but I miss
myself most when I’m gone.
In the salty wet air of my ancestry
my auntie peels a mango with her teeth
and I’m no longer
writing political poems; because there are
mangoes and my favorite memory is still alive.
I’m digging for meaning but haunted by purpose
and it’s an insufficient approach.
What’s the margin of loss on words not spent today?
I’m getting older. I’m buying smaller images to travel light.
I wake up, I light up, I tidy, and it’s all over now.
■