Christina Lovin
Photo: Zest-pk
They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
James Wright, “A Blessing”
Now there are two. Seven deer, I’m told, before
the cougar’s appetite growled: one by one they were taken
down to the forest’s soft floor. Just these two escaping:
a tale told by the ragged ear of the [...]
Christina Lovin
Photo: hickoryhollow113
I am afraid, I admit. There are reports of mountain lions
in these woods. I am mortal, like the deer and the squirrel,
but I come prepared: large stick in my hand, a knife
from the kitchen in my pocket. A quick study, I stop
and turn as I have read, to act as prey would: wary
and [...]
Christina Lovin
Photo: Ctd 2005
I wanted to write something deep,
but your eyes are only blue: that color
of October oceans or the clear skies
of May, though not so fathomless.
Your gaze holds more these tidal pools
reflecting August’s rain-thirsty heaven
and flocks of greedy gulls. Knowing
them to be too shallow, too warm, I plunge
into the petulant surf, while you take [...]
Christina Lovin
Photo: FotoDawg
The snow came first, and then the rain—
it froze to everything
exposed, increased upon itself like grief
or love left unexpressed,
until the heavy branches sagged
with melancholy weight.
Some crashed to earth,
some fingered roofs or cars,
electric lines like arcs of flight
across the frozen air.
Christina Lovin
Photo: clspeace
“A woman without humor is a lost woman.” Djuna Barnes
Nellie wore Slightly Wicked cologne—
the bottle shapely, a deep shade of rose:
that blush from a woman who understands
the bawdy joke, the double entendre—
a knock off ordered from catalogs of household
supplies—brushes, brooms, dust mitts, cleanser—
and delivered by a traveling salesman.
Did he sit there at [...]
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