Haze Phase

The deeper I burrow           

the closer I get 

to the dead,                                                               

as if they could protect me. 

And they do.                                

Death brought this vague plague  

to life for me—my loss incalculable.     

The roots of a hellebore        

poke through the earthen ceiling—

last sign of winter, first of spring.

Not ensconced alone, sometimes I hear you sleeping         

to the sound of rainstorms. When napping 

to the static between conflicting stations,

I dream of emerging safely.            

Sometimes I hear you howling,                           

but it’s just coyote sounds.                    

When we’re up and about, we give each other reason 

to quell our fears, reason to wash                                      

away bad moods: there’s pressure               

to mingle before I’m ready—is somebody                  

trying to smoke me out of my lair?                       

I step up and out: No one’s in sight, not a trace

of smoke perturbs the air: I breathe deeply—     

a moment of sun on my naked face—

then lift the downcast 

hellebore flower to the light.                

Yet with signals unclear,  

I still don’t know how to behave

these unnuanced days,         

and refuse to break      

my fragile rules—pure and shiny 

as the frill of ice round that mud puddle. 

Then, my faceless shadow faces       

that small pond—for a flash               

imagines itself a large fish.     

I follow my shadow around 

the water hole, then down              

squares of sidewalk, till it finds itself     

overlapping—joining—other shadows.

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Laura Glenn

Laura Glenn’s book of poems I Can’t Say I’m Lost was published by FootHills, and her chapbook When the Ice Melts was published by Finishing Line Press. Her poems have appeared in many journals, including The Antioch Review, Boulevard, Cortland Review, Epoch, Green Mountains Review, Hotel Amerika, Massachusetts Review, Pedestal, Poet Lore, Poetry, Smartish Pace, and Rattapallax, as well as in anthologies. She has completed work on another full-length book of poems, and is working on a chapbook of pandemic-related poems. Also a visual artist, she lives in Ithaca, NY, where she works as a freelance copy editor.

See more of her work at www.lauraglennpoetandartist.com/

Latest posts by Laura Glenn (see all)

• Haze Phase - December 5, 2022