A Literary Journal for New & Established Voices

Poetry by Claudia Mills

by | Nov 15, 2022 | Poetry | 5 comments

 

by Claudia Mills

The Salvation Army Sent a Truck

I kept a few things, of course,
but only a few. Framed photographs.
The ceramic bird Christmas ornaments:

goldfinch, cardinal, chickadee.
worn wallet with expired driver’s license.
The green glass plates for gooseberry pie.

I’ve never been one for things,
more stuff to pack up and unpack.
But still – a pang – when they took

his chair, the one he kept covered
with the threadbare sheet, to keep
the faded roses from fading even more.

***

A Year after Her Parents’ Divorce

When we play hide-and-seek,
she tells me where she’s going
to hide; it’s always the same,
beneath a blanket
on the couch right next to me.

In case I need a few more
clues, she adds a series of
squeaks and giggles coming
from the hiding place.

She wants so much to be found.

I want so much to be
the one finding her.

 

Photo by Lana Jokhadze via Pexels

About the Author

5 Comments

  1. Virginia Boudreau

    I simply love these poems: so evocative, such rich imagery, and in so few words. Thank you!

    Reply
    • Claudia Mills

      Thank you so much, Virginia! I’m thrilled to be able to share these here.

      Reply
  2. Laura Cherry

    These are wonderful, Claudia.

    Reply

Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.