by Dawnell Harrison

Your hands 

My mind is starless and
As blank as a white wall.

The moon feigns white
Brightness and love.

I cannot trust it.
It drags the dregs

Of the sea behind it like
Dark amputations.

All night I have been
Dreaming of war.

I awake nervous and
Indifferent.

Give me your hands,
Tender as they are.

All night

All night the night
Has been blackening.

The marrow of my bones
Are stiffening.

The green meadow
Dissolves my soul.

The moon is haloed
With a white luminescence.

I made my way to heaven.
It is bright and motherless.

Descends

The sterile sun descends
Above the moor,

A red eye staring me down.
Encumbered deep in thought

I rudder down like a crow as
My blacks drag behind me.

Last summer’s flowers are
All engrained in icy graves.

Slushy frost touches the vent
Of my pain.
 

Smile

My smile fell into the garden
of vegetables. It is of no use.

I did not retrieve it like a dog –
now I look like everyone else –

think of it as a gift to be so
ordinary and following in a

footfall of echos.
I am mooing now and following

the herd.  How fine it is to be
as dumb as a mirror.

Notes on Author’s Work:

As well as these four poems, more of Dawnell Harrison’s poetry can be found in the March and May 2013 issue of Eastlit.