Postcard Poetry Fest: August 20, 2013

Then and now merge with a shimmering understanding of multidimensional time.  Does it matter that you only want to dance?  How is the present sprinkled with mosaics of the past?  Here’s another poem from the 7th year of Postcard Poetry Fest and my first year of participating.



Image credit:

Just Over Her Shoulder


Dance, you say.

But she cannot remember.

Her barefeet so far away.

Numb lips without words.


He never liked to dance,

endured her coaxing

when they were young.


Her head is hollow now,

a gourd without rhythm

as he walks a tight rope

without a net.

   Death always whispers

   behind her ear.


   C.J. Prince



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s