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Site design: Skeleton

Sample Poems by Rosemary Winslow

Neighbor

The gnat has six friends
All of one mind bumbling near
the front door. Let them!


Just In

Do the lights work? Who has the keys?
Are we sheltered?
The road had more cracks than before.
I don't like small rooms.
Are there mice here?
Look! the mountains are black.
Where did the squirrel go?
Are they baking in the city?
These pillows are feather.
I don't care what happened in the city.
Is there a can opener?
Let's listen to the air.
The sky is blue.
Where's the bathroom?
How do you make a tree?
No, the wheelchair won't go upstairs.
These ferns resemble hair.
Children should be seen.
Have you lost your glasses?
Will the rock move?
There's a wasps' nest up there.
Are the nails sharp?
Is the apothecary closed?
How high was the flooding?
Is that clock right?
Does the TV work?
Did they find the bomb in time?
Who moved the hammock?
Was he wearing a bullet-proof vest?
Why is this frog white?
Must we have peaches?
Must we work?
The trees are saying something.
Must you shout?
Someone hid the hummingbirds.
Someone took the mailbox.
How bad is the ozone?
Children should be clean.
I want popcorn.
Do you think the apartment is okay?
The floor creaks beneath my wheels.
Where are your shorts?
Is the lake warm?
How do you make a lake?
Don't we need to paint the house?
Did anyone die?
I don't like oatmeal.
Can we get any stations?
The eggs are brown!
Will you comb my hair?
Please light a fire.
Who moved the beds?
How much dust was there?
Is that a star?
Where is your body?
Is that the moon behind that cloud?
Can you see me?
Is it supposed to rain?
I can't see my hand.
Wasn't I here before?


Hydrangeas

Blue, voluptuous, pending through iron
to my yard. These globes don't stop their progress
as an ant's doesn't, though they're slower to trespass
what the fence marks ours.

Our own. If I could own these, I could not
grow them, if I could grow them, I could not
keep them from their natural rate. If I could,
I would not, the grace to die being a grace.

Distant absorber now, of sun, mineral, air-
as I am-coming closer, needs no forgiveness.
Full as breasts, as hemispheres fused, as blue lungs
and the hands of the beloved at his blue bench.
You feed my eyes. You breathe.
You need no disguises.


Everything Is Breathing Right Now

The leaves of the ash tree outside the window, the twin pines, roots, trunks, needles,

The chipmunks scuttling along the deck down into the stone-walled garden chirp out air, the stones accepting their molecules and energetic waves,

The blackberry running among the wild flowers through the long lawn, the quick-silver mushrooms the squirrel nibbles, twitching his nose between nibbles,

The elephant breathes up the long nose with the two holes like ours, into the large lungs, also like ours,

The alligator surfaces, she draws back the flaps over the nose holes like the day lily opening to summer for one long day,

The hawk glides on flat wings, the pinpoint holes in his beak take in the air that holds him,

The palm tree waves in the wind that carries carbon dioxide to the breath pores of her fronds, breathes out oxygen we need,

Down the block the trees of heaven growing out of the rooftop toward heaven dance with the hurricane in and out,

The ship engines churning ocean, the silent fish passing by unseen open and shut their gills like fans,

The gray business suit, the indigo tattoos, the high heels and sneakers walking steadily to buses and offices move with the bodies' pulmonary circulation,

The panda chuffs his lover over the lunch of tender bamboo, breathing faster,

The lovers breathe in the calm starry night in the bedroom, their legs and arms clasped afterward in the bedroom,

The cat burglar fills his lungs in freedom, scaling the roofscape, the cat below screams at a pit bull striding between the iron fence and the sycamore,

The baby screams air in and out in the nighttime dark, the mother breathing a song softly above his face,

Near 3 a.m., innumerable humans expel air, singing like foghorns, announcing, I'm alive! I'm alive!

The vaporous night pulsing soft shine on asphalt and air amid the street lamps,

The sunflowers in the row house yard turn their faces to the sun, receive light,

The black fly and scorpion, firefly and mosquito take in tiny bits of oxygen under the silent moon,



The whale nursing her calf surfaces, opens her blow hole, and the calf opens her blow hole, rhyming funneled geysers up through the tilting waves, the male a ways off closes his air-mouth and descends,

And you & I sitting here talking and listening intake the same air, same molecules, aromas, germs, yawns, sadness, contagious bliss.