Calcify these layers of stars,
sunken bursts, knitting needles.
Calm comes as I imagine the woman
in her rocker clicking in rhythm
with the ocean wave; rhythm that moves us,
original, the power we feel
when the wind blows across
a naked cheek, inspires motion.
We are small, like tiny strands
of connective tissue that hold this peanut together;
fibers and memory, an umbilical cord.
The pattern braids life
to the baby. It is all fragile.
We are soft and beautiful.
Real china dolls,
with painted on smiles. We.
Ivy Page is a poet whose poetry has been described by Ross Gay as, "passionate, sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes hilarious poems, (which) always have a deep and generous intelligence." She lives in the White Mountains of New Hampshire with her husband and two daughters. Ivy completed her MFA in Creative Writing at New England College. She has taught creative writing and composition at the community and college level. Her work has appeared in The Houston Literary Review, Boston Literary Magazine, New Plains Review, Cantaraville, Snow Monkey, Oak Bend Review, The November 3rd Club, Night Train, The Smoking Poet, and Underground Voices. Her first book review appears in New Southerner. She is also the editor and founder of Organs of Vision and Speech Magazine, www.ovsmag.com. Read more of Ivy's work at www.poeticentanglement.com
| Rock and Flesh has been a poem that I have been writing since 2004. It started as a exercise in Liz Ahl's Creative Writing class at Plymouth State University, and grew. I wanted to capture the immensity and fragility of life, I wanted to illustrate the beauty. These are lofty goals of many poets, but at some point you discover the poem is alive and ready to be released. |
