Monday, November 28, 2016

The Language of Pain




Art by Audrey


pain is the whistle between my teeth
on cold mornings when dew lies heavy

pain is the woman whose blood runs
chasing her children
knowing she will never catch them before
time runs out

pain is the mill we grind
pulling it round
to spot ourselves a $5 or a $50
to pay that last bill

pain is the language
we speak
when we forget the others

it speaks in the clearest of tones
from the jar on my tongue

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2016

Posted today at d'verse

Wednesday, November 9, 2016

A Reweaving



i awoke to a world gone mad
hatred its main bargaining chip
and though i didn't want to,
i cried with each step this morning,
picked up worn linen
woven in youth's innocence
its nubs a part of its landscape

i will reweave it
over time
make it stronger
though you may shout your imprecations 
loudly in my ear
i will not falter
i will not halt
i will not hate

so that our children 
need not fear


copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2016

Posted for the midweek Motif at Poets United

Sunday, November 6, 2016

Left Behind


i find pieces of me
strewn among old buttons
plastic whites
yellowing with age

a red box
with white buttons
grey hair, my thread

these are the colors
you left behind
and a thimble
bent silver
to hold them all
until i sew them into place again


copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2016

Posted for Poets United Pantry

Sunday, October 30, 2016

An Unfinished Story







our stories are written inside us
making their way 
up through marrow
exiting through pores
a whisper of skin

did we always know them
or did they drift
inside
with those dreams
passed to you
in utero

i hope you find them
feel them rise inside you
let them see sunlight
learn their names and places
see them dance on the wind

until it is time 
for you to pass them 
on
through blood and bone
gifts of the mother
to us all


copyright/all rights reserved

This feels unfinished--but then I feel in transition somehow--

Posted for Poets United




Wednesday, October 12, 2016

Gifts From Small Gods




small gods
strew yellows and pinks
onto dew from liquid palattes,
a gift to the cats who stalk them
in the jungles of spent tomatoes
and browned squash

captured,
i sit awash in morning's gifts
gathering courage
from waxen images
torn open
spilling seed

colors run together
until all i can see is brown
and I am reminded that
there is no tomorrow
without fertile soil.


copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2016







Friday, September 16, 2016

The Poet's Breath



i met you in the sun

you wrote your poetry
on clouds
blue on white
a daisy, your pen

until grey streaks pushed
your kind aside
deeper and deeper
into the edges
pulling petals apart
a litany to tiny ends

the wilt of a berry
on your breast
rebirth          it's red
this new ink
the leaves your pages

poetry, your breath.


copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2016


posted for poets united



Sunday, August 28, 2016

Breathing Lessons



The dead must breathe sometimes,
inhale their memories,

let them sink quietly
into revenants,
scrub them clean,
until like bone,
they shimmer in the dark.


copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2016

Process Note: This piece has been hanging around in this short form for a while now. I am not sure it is a poem yet, but every time I try to expand it into something longer, I fail. So for now, I will share it with you as it is and see if it morphs into something else later.

Posted for Poets United Pantry