I Could DIE
and no one would notice,
too much bitter cold, congestion, too much white noise.
Including you
another brute
filled with care.
The seasons pass.
I season. Nicely
contained by your hollow thirst, a water jasmine appears,
to fill your infinite need, for now.
Till the luster fades,
and her sanguine support, curls, falls away.
And another season passes
as the cold hard lines, are drawn, again.
21.409167
-157.799167
Like this:
Like Loading...
Published by
Cornelia DeDona
Author, Poet, Photographer, domestic violence survivor, and naturalized immigrant, Cornelia is currently an Arts and Letters Member-At-Large of The National League Of American Pen Women.
Cornelia lived in Kaneohe, Hawaii for thirty-six years. Also seven years in the Mid-Hudson Valley of New York. She now resides in North Fort Myers, Florida.
Her poems and photography are published in print, online and Rain Bird, a literary and art journal of the University of Hawaii's Windward Community College (2008-2013).
In 2013, Cornelia received Rain Bird's Kolokolea Poetry Prize for her poem, "Speaking French."
In 2016 her chapbook "Hawaiian Time," entered in the National League of American Pen Women’s Vinnie Ream contest was awarded the 3rd place in their inaugural multi-discipline category.
View all posts by Cornelia DeDona
