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Moving Words 2005 Poems


When I was slimmer, dreamy and shy,
The world was a glimmer of stars in the sky.

Now, tangle of ganglia, synapsis of gin,
Latin verbs for the dative tucked under my chin,

I still can distinguish between swallow and chew
But what color in the rainbow comes after blue?

Cicely Angleton


whole her being, whole
her breath, her cooing
snuffling sounds in sleep, her drift into,
away from sleep, lucid hunger
hour upon hour in lamplight her gaze
steady absorbent--
her suckling tight
and fiery on my skin: wholly
outside myself—serene and pearled
within herself, wholly within.

Ramola D


Here I come
I am the black stripes on yellow ochre tiger
Watch the markings on my face
My Maker paints this face every morning
Before he sends me into the world.
I have swum in the cool calm waters of my ancestors.
Watch the light and shadow play on my face and boy as I move.
I walk to my destination, casting you aside with a swipe of a paw
A split-second motion, uncompromising the fluidity of my movement,
Leaving you fearful in my wake.

Nandinee K. Kutty


McIntosh, Winsap, Rome Beauty:
my father planted them before I was born,
watering, spraying, pruning. Waiting
for spring blossoms to ferment
and turn into crimson spheres
like roses opening slowly in the sun.
He’d store them under the stairs
to last him all winter long,
peeling single curly strips and slicing
crescent moons to eat one by one.

Susan Bucci Mockler


She makes each shell her own,
despite its shape or color.
She lives alone as any living thing
within its skin. Thinking thoughts
of water or of land, she shifts the sand
with each step toward the ocean.

Kathi Morrison-Taylor


My peerless intelligence and keen wit.
My good looks and vast physical prowess.
Above all, my sensitivity to your needs--
most importantly your need to serve and praise me.
I am the outer limit,
the stuff dreams are made of,
the unmoved mover who sets the wheels in motion,
the big cigar of perpetual smoking.
I hold my head so high
I get nose bleeds.

Jose Padua