We came to a crossing
you and I
much later than sooner
frozen in status
locked in our ritual.
You the nucleus
me the outer limit.
Don’t thank me.
I drink in the aroma
of Kona coffee musing on
black tar soot
the three of us
after a twelve hour day
sharing ice-cream and tears.
You the master
me the slave.
Don’t thank me.
The steady downpour
brings me back
to that day you left for the pier
full of vengeance and full of yourself.
It has rained much since then
wiping clean the guilt
and cheek.
You the able
me the handicapped.
Don’t thank me.
I smashed the charm
clouded for decades
solicited the fiend
that divided us.
And behold
the road beyond your realm exists.
The victims are countless
the blameless are few.
Don’t thank me.
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C. S. De Dona
Author, Poet, Photographer, domestic violence survivor, and naturalized immigrant, Cornelia is currently an Arts and Letters member of The Southwest Florida Branch 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 in 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 2015 her chapbook "Hawaiian Time," entered in the National League of American Pen Women's Vinnie Ream contest, was awarded third place in their inaugural multi-discipline category.
View all posts by C. S. De Dona
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