The date
rings a bell
in her head. That pattern
of flowers spilled on the street was
heart-shaped.
cinquain
Proud Cinquain
The truth—
diplomatic
delivery gets you
nowhere near humility’s true
timbre.
Minnesota Spring Breaks
This is
finally it—
tiny green buds begin
to break along most tree branches.
So poised.
Cruel April Cinquain
Night falls
late on this snow—
too late to mirror breath
or invite sky humming beneath
its sheen.
Caryatid on Leave
Diffuse
weepers align
with this place where she stood,
held up the world’s concentration,
and sighed.
Scented Cinquain
Smoke cleared,
the time has come
for her to claim her own
signature fragrance—a rose at
midnight.
Resort: A Cinquain
Waiving
the right to write,
I am a silent tree
shading a racket of dreams left
behind.
2012 Summer Solstice: June 20
These are
elastic skies
that won’t snap into night
before it’s time to pause under
the cusp.
Carry On
Free fall—
a belly flop
onto carpet. No wheels
can rescue the traveler now
landing.
Sole Cinquain
I see
urban hermits
amidst slow-moving crowds
who do not speak of loneliness
exposed.
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 