Poetry

Hard Lines

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.

Published by

Cornelia DeDona

Author/Photographer, and native New Yorker, Cornelia is currently a Member-At-Large of The National League Of American Pen Women. Cornelia lived in Kaneohe, Hawaii for thirty-six years. She makes her home in the Mid-Hudson Valley of New York. 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 October 2015 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