Zephyr’s Grief
Today the hidden trench
has grown over damp and green,
rye & flax, purple loosestrife
so the whole expanse
appears a veld, tilled
and laced with bloom.
If I went out, I would sink
to my knees—the way we
once kneeled in church.
How empty and quiet
eternity was-- how night
obscured the stained glass
with vast darkness and glorious stars.
Oh my friend
when I remember you,
mistrals blow and twist in me,
your height, your face blurred
by dust and distance.
Friend, where did you go?
My grief won’t fill in
nor will it fall away.
I am the meadow grass
bending, folding, every gust
presses me so low.
Lisa Ortiz’s poems have appeared in Zyzzyva, The Literary Review, Bateau and in the anthology 50 Best New Poets 2013. Two chapbooks are also available, Turns Out (Main Street Rag) and Self Portrait as a Clock (Finishing Line Press).
Today the hidden trench
has grown over damp and green,
rye & flax, purple loosestrife
so the whole expanse
appears a veld, tilled
and laced with bloom.
If I went out, I would sink
to my knees—the way we
once kneeled in church.
How empty and quiet
eternity was-- how night
obscured the stained glass
with vast darkness and glorious stars.
Oh my friend
when I remember you,
mistrals blow and twist in me,
your height, your face blurred
by dust and distance.
Friend, where did you go?
My grief won’t fill in
nor will it fall away.
I am the meadow grass
bending, folding, every gust
presses me so low.
Lisa Ortiz’s poems have appeared in Zyzzyva, The Literary Review, Bateau and in the anthology 50 Best New Poets 2013. Two chapbooks are also available, Turns Out (Main Street Rag) and Self Portrait as a Clock (Finishing Line Press).
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