Issue 7.3 – Poetry

Issue 7 - Poetry (2)

 

I am a little girl

kicking suns

I am an old woman

sitting in a pool of laughs

I am the sun

coming up every day

to harden your heart

 

There’s a call to arms

in all our red glass mouths

white hot dripping glass

blown by some kind of

angelic thing

 

Solidifying

in the shape of

a call to arms

in all our red glass mouths

 

Sometimes mothers don’t love their children

 

Sometimes the sun is not here to warm us

 

Sometimes you kick whatever you can

 

Sometimes you find a warm seed

inside your chest glowing

brighter each time you kick

 

Sometimes you remember

our mothers felt us all kick

and they glowed.


 

20770429_10108505937125699_4376679769573740222_nJoanna Kurimsky is originally from New Jersey, where, despite the proximity of the sea, she suffered over a decade of writer’s block.  Currently living in Portland, OR, she is finding her voice again, as well as banging away on an old typewriter, making jewelry and crafts, walking dogs, petting cats, and learning to play guitar.  She finally bought a real raincoat and expects it will change her life significantly. Joanna would like to acknowledge her creative buddies at NoPoSpoWo for their kind words and mind melding. Connect with her online and on Twitter: @mojopineapple

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