Monday, 25 February 2013

2 Poems by Dawnell Harrison

The furies

you roam the house
with your fantastical

furies agitating the dogs
normal decorum.

in the desolate light
of your ashen eyes,

red lava runs in your
mind's eye tearing down

each plush forest
with a ruin known

only by volcanoes.
you stalk like a lion,

meditating as the cold
night begins.

last summer's poppies
are all imbedded in ice –

frost polishes the hole
of my pain.


Winter festers beneath the cold blood of it –
The stark white moon has nothing to do with this.

The squirrels are scant and grow weary of this
Lamenting snow tossing layer after layer

Until everything is as pure white as an eggshell.
Mornings dissolve into silence.

The sun fails us.
Plentitude has no mother here.


I have been published in over 60 magazines and journals including The Endicott Review, Abbey, Iconoclast, Nerve Cowboy, Mobius, and many others.

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