Summer’s End
Round the bend, curves of crispy grass
descending into the dry dusted valley—toasted
straw and shimmering sun, bathes the face
through rolled down windows. Deep breath, near
impossible in the furnace blast of Northern California.
Wee Hours
Lowering,
the great orb
glows
through fog and chill
cracked lightening
begins, at the horizon:
a quiet child peering around a mother’s skirt,
opening credits of an epic movie, a great eye
awakening. Objects sharpen,
blurs focus to lines, waiting
a call, tentative—distant—answers another.
Quiet
Ghost
Your leaving--
like an amputated arm—is a phantom itch.
When I turn around to tell you that detail,
my day, the annoyances, what made me smile
to myself because I thought of you.
share how that 9 am meeting ended,
the funny meme going viral--did you see it?
So sudden, like a pulled tooth, leaving a gaping hole
I’m not supposed to touch,
but just can’t help it.
D Larissa Peters grew up in Indonesia and has been somewhat of a nomad. After meandering around the East Coast for more than 10 years, she now resides in California. Her most recent published poems have appeared in Last Leaves Magazine, Synkroniciti, Pink Panther Magazine, Solstice Literary and has a few forthcoming pieces elsewhere.
Round the bend, curves of crispy grass
descending into the dry dusted valley—toasted
straw and shimmering sun, bathes the face
through rolled down windows. Deep breath, near
impossible in the furnace blast of Northern California.
Wee Hours
Lowering,
the great orb
glows
through fog and chill
cracked lightening
begins, at the horizon:
a quiet child peering around a mother’s skirt,
opening credits of an epic movie, a great eye
awakening. Objects sharpen,
blurs focus to lines, waiting
a call, tentative—distant—answers another.
Quiet
Ghost
Your leaving--
like an amputated arm—is a phantom itch.
When I turn around to tell you that detail,
my day, the annoyances, what made me smile
to myself because I thought of you.
share how that 9 am meeting ended,
the funny meme going viral--did you see it?
So sudden, like a pulled tooth, leaving a gaping hole
I’m not supposed to touch,
but just can’t help it.
D Larissa Peters grew up in Indonesia and has been somewhat of a nomad. After meandering around the East Coast for more than 10 years, she now resides in California. Her most recent published poems have appeared in Last Leaves Magazine, Synkroniciti, Pink Panther Magazine, Solstice Literary and has a few forthcoming pieces elsewhere.
