Bread When I am ground down, my bones into flour, what will I become in my final hour? When life’s heaviness grows too much to bear, my muscles fallen into disrepair, the world will knead my remains into dough. The bellows of my lungs deflate and slow. When the shells of my eyes have cracked open, my dreams, like yolks, are scattered and broken, the milk of my life squeezed into the mix, there’s no time left to replace or to fix and all my words are merely dissonance. Will I rise up and be the sustenance for people I leave behind in my stead, when time’s baker transforms me into bread?
Protest The world is on fire but we will not burn. Blood poured out with each new police event, while we’re trying to force the world to turn. Gain is by privilege, instead of earned, while the currency of Black lives is spent. The world is on fire, but we will not burn. Human DNA is tossed in a churn. Color’s not virtue, whiteness just pigment, and we’re trying to force the world to turn. Now stand together to voice our concern. To all in need, strength is given, not lent. The world is on fire, but we will not burn. Brothers, sisters, along with you I yearn for justice, truth, but if need be, dissent, as slowly we’re forcing the world to turn. We work with compassion to overturn hatred and to stop the need for lament. The world is on fire but we will not burn, and finally we’ll force the world to turn.
A Distant Magic I wake to honeysuckle, lavender, the scent of distant magic in the air. Memories of some place other, visions of a different when. The scent of distant magic in the air, Jack in the Green dancing to the pipes. Visions of a different when, a faery song buzzing on my lips. Jack in the Green dances to the pipes, sunlight painting trees in golden layers, a faery song buzzing on my lips, the winged wonders hover by my head. Sunlight paints the trees in golden layers, showing the otherworld peeking through, while winged wonders hover round my head. I wake to honeysuckle, lavender.
Terri Simon’s poetry chapbook, “Ghosts of My Own Choosing,” was published by Flutter Press (2017). Her chapbook, “Ringing the Bell” is forthcoming from Clare Songbirds Publishing House. Her work appears in “The Avenue,” “Third Wednesday,” “Poetry Quarterly,” “Ariel Chart,” and other print and online journals. She lives in Laurel, Maryland with her husband and dogs. Find her at http://www.terricsimon.com.