top of page
  • Writer's pictureNic

Our Lady of Change

i.

It burned so cruel and so quick, taking

everything I'd built, no chance to save

anything but this precious, pitiful breath,

routine ruined, old dreams all laid to ash.

So then, how did it burn? Mercifully swift.


ii.

I surrendered myself to the current

with a desperate desire to change--

self, scenery, anything to be rid of this restlessness--

but the water slowed until it could no longer carry me,

and I surrendered myself to the stillness,

with the stream gently rubbing at my back.


iii.

She smells like a house fire.

Her skin is smooth as a river stone.


5/30/2018

4 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

On Knowing

For my friend on the occasion of her wedding. What I know of mirrors is their imperfection, their imbalance of mathematics: one reflects one, & we imagine this is wholeness & we believe we know oursel

On Art

For my friend on the occasion of his wedding. No eye for art, you said, and turned toward Hunger, livid color leaving you cold, neither keen, nor compelling, not enough, not when you already know how

Discretion

It is not Death that watches us with suspicion, yet you invoke Her name anyway, make of Her a boundary, make of me an earthen intimacy. There is no revelry in roots no matter how deep they run, only f

bottom of page