WHAT IS WORN IS WHAT HAS LIVED The wild rose was full with winter birds settled on the risen snow. Chickadee, nuthatch, junco. And in another house, your dying nearly complete. And the air thickening with snow, but the birds remained. How the heart closes a door so silently, nothing disturbs the quiet. And you […]
Pamela Porter | RUPTURE
RUPTURE Pearls in a silver bowl, half the clasp, no string. Among the smaller stars, fallen planets. I was your final dance. The night and its prophets, all your eyes watching. You were a road, a river; now you’re spindrift, washed up. Where everything, eventually, is finished. Boarded up. Abandoned. Your cities of ruin. Little […]