A house is bare without a garden and
what am I but the combination of parts.
Some flowers can grow in the darkest of corners,
the roots of natural machines in the ground,
only visible when a light awakens curiosity.
What is it really that defines us?
A body is bare without a soul and
what am I but the combination of parts.
Poem by J. Grace
When I am in love I will be jealous of a spoon
Resting between her lips-
Doors, which hold my breath,
(as a captor holds a captive)
Lips, which have the power to
begin me and inevitably,
end me.
A spoon resting there,
Caressed by softness and warmth
After the burn of hot tea,
In the afternoon.
When I am in love I will be jealous of a spoon.
Poem by J. Grace
I don’t know what to do with this.
I have no tangible thing to keep you in,
no keepsake, no box, no case.
You exist in the space that you left,
void and seared in my memory.
When I close my eyes,
I see the freckles of your back,
constellations and roads I would travel down,
my hands and mouth,
adventures for only you and me.
And now as I lay in the sheets,
(still twisted by your body)
I can almost feel your fingertips
and the warmth of your breath on my neck
…
Laying in these empty sheets, I realize
You are not here and your absence haunts me.
Poem by J. Grace
She took down all her dreams
from the shelf
he had her place them on.
Careful of the dusty wings,
She cupped them in her hands,
and watched the wonder return.
Poem by J. Grace
