Three years
and keep counting
up then down to return
to a time I still feared lighting
a match.
Day Poems
Fifty Below
Super
cold Monday comes
to strip away layers
to reach the core of what truly
matters.
Winter Reds
Problems
with skin and boots
and the lights flicker off—
on again like below zero
sunshine.
May I Have My Book Back?
No longer his
birthday, she can
relax for another
364 days. If only
it were a leap
year. She might use
that extra 24 hours
to practice forgetting
who he ever was.
2013 in review
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2013 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 2,400 times in 2013. If it were a cable car, it would take about 40 trips to carry that many people.
Another Cinquain in Which a Minneapolis Girl Without Wheels Contemplates 2014
No more
excuses left—
Saint Paul here she comes now
riding the Green Line LRT
at last.
Don’t Take a Souvenir Cinquain
Flashing
red and white light
above wild clay cliffs
will fade to memory without
rescue.
Lip
He sees
structure in her
she might destroy again
without his voice’s midnight calm
to soothe.
Sandy Hook Light
Too Cold for a Parade
Diamond dust drifts
vertically through air. Sun
dogs will wag
their tails to defy
her resignation
to frown on these shrunken
days. Sixteen more
before they begin
to expand again. Who
needs a float?
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 