Poems for St. Valentines Day


I carry you with me into that light,

bread of masses, silence of ages

you ingest, invest through me.

The cave at my center, like cupped hands

before a fire, holds you. My finger traces

your outline on my skin and you are there.

I can see your listing gaze, the hunger at the base

of your taut throat, the graces looting your knapsack

of tortured remembrances. We will take them—

they say, they will be gone, extinguished like a star.

Breathe with me, look around.

You are already there.

~ Tricia Gates Brown

{Originally appeared in collection Sackcloth and Ashes2008}


Walking, Coldest Day of the Year

The sun loves days like this, seen

in a million new ways, each blade of grass

tipped with a diamond, light refracted

into myriad forms of honor. Whole fields

of crystalline white, patched in chartreuse

here and there, where the sun went too

far. Puddles, frozen and thawed, froze

again into expressionistic layers, pod

forms overlapping, concentric circles.

I pass the woman I met at the Bookmobile,

and she waves through a window. My dog

crunches brittle turf under calloused paws,

and runs over threads of moss lacy with

frost. My mind lies resting in a small

pocket, future and past dissipate like

tendrils of smoke, and you are closer to me

than my skin. I hold you inside me

like a Russian nesting doll, and when I stand

at the creek, I know you hear its trickle

and roll. When the love all around shakes me

like breath on a reed,

I know you feel the vibration. Loving a blade of grass is

loving God, and loving God is loving you.

You are a fish. Love is water.

~ Tricia Gates Brown

{Originally appeared in collection Sackcloth and Ashes2008}

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