When I Went Past My Prime Last Wednesday
Oh, sweet dove, the morning is mine
today. You’re cooing in the wrong window.
Every day, you look more like the swollen hands
of one who’s pared the peels off a hundred
and sixty-three potatoes forty-five minutes
before dinner. Take a seat.
“These days” you say, “are dangling tomatoes, ripe
yet frozen on the vine.”
I’m standing alone on the alpine heights,
echoes engraving the stones.
You can ride my blind horse
far as she’ll go, but then get off,
let her come home.
Just leave my dark mules alone.
Anita K. Boyle is a poet, artist and graphic designer, and the author of What the Alder Told Me (MoonPath Press, 2011) and Bamboo Equals Loon (Egress Studio Press, 2001. Her poems have appeared in Conversations Across Borders, StringTown, The Raven Chronicles, Crab Creek Review, Clover, Spoon River Poetry Review, and elsewhere. She is lucky enough to live near an inspiring pond outside Bellingham, Washington with her husband, the poet James Bertolino. This fall, they will spend a little time in Italy, where they will see the small Alpine town where Jim’s grandparents came from (Locana), and which will be her first adventure outside of North America.