A wave crests in the sidewalk
The cement rolls toward you
Reach for a tissue paper flower —
Her hand —
To steady you as it bubbles
Beneath your shoeless feet
It travels up your pant leg
A jitterbug tremor plants
Itself in the corner
Of your eye
Her laugh reminds you
That you never want it to stop.
© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved
Day 3
She & He #1
All of our blunders
our scarlet miscalculations
drop like debris,
fuselage plummeting
when Quietus
buys the seat
beside us
Mid-air, my love,
we meet
at last
Immortal blue above
boundless patterns
of geo-green
and brown
beneath
And we are
cast in robes
of amaranthine
In the eternal in-between
© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved
The Finale for She & He and for the month of April. On the 3rd day of National Poetry Month, a narrative began with the poem Quake. As many writers will tell you, it felt like the characters had taken me hostage and bid me write their story, so I spent this past month chained to my laptop in exchange for coffee and the by-line. If you have not read the story of She & He, feel free to click on the above link to Quake and scroll through the poems. To those who have been reading throughout the month – many thanks! ~Jilly
The stones smell hot after a rain
splitting themselves for the love of a stranger
who only expects to own them
swallowing them (w)hole
letting the sharp edges of ancient
glaciers and tribal villages
rend their soul into a million shards
of sand tossed beneath the waves
tumbling quaking ebbing in time with the August moon
© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved
Sunday Whirl: wave, tribe, edges, expect, quake, spit,(split)
stone, village, stranger, hole, (whole) own, swallow
Jilly's 