By Andrea Potos
Poem Beginning with a Line Adapted from e.e. Cummings
If there are any heavens
my mother will
have one, it will be
a heaven of bursting yellow
begonias like the ones that lined
her front window as she stood waving
and watching me drive away each time,
it will be
a heaven of hot coral roses
like the smooth and shining
hue of her lipstick I paint
on my lips now,
looking into the mirror,
to trace the path she took into each day.
~~~
Another Gift of Travel
Returned to your own bed,
your body beats out the birds.
Sleep will have no more of you now.
The words are already drafted
from another air,
the pages of morning
spread out for you to remember.
Image: Painting, acrylic medium and fabric dye on panel (2014), by Eric Sorensen. Part of a series exploring the movement of translucent colors.
