It took a minute to realize that the pulsing in my fingertip was my own heart and not that of a chipmunk curled in clover padding a cardboard box. I laid it there after the neighbor’s cat had its way, tossing him into the air like a beanbag. Such a tiny rib cage, where does one feel for a heartbeat, or look for the moth-wing flutter of a breath? If only I could have intervened sooner, there would be no need to line this hole dug beneath the weeping cherry with downy mullein leaves.
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For a limited time, I’m giving away signed copies of my new poetry book Every Note, a Lantern, to anyone that upgrades to a paid subscription (or newly subscribes) at the annual or founding member level.
The imagery and turn of phrase in this poem are spot on. A pleasure to read and envision.
I have loved every single poem I have read since we were in Janisse's Magical Craft writing class. Your work is poignant and beautiful. Can't wait to get your book.