Well-Met

For this Flashback Friday, I thought I’d share a poem I wrote in February for a monthly challenge using a photo or artwork as prompt. Since the challenge is over now and I wasn’t sure what to do with the poem, I thought I’d share it here. Plus, it’s National Poetry Month! Let’s celebrate!

The poem is also a throwback because it’s about winter and riffs on some of the feelings I had when I was in New York City in February 2015. Fountains were frozen, and there was snow on the ground but no clouds in the sky. I was wearing pants under my pants and regretting my lack of gloves, but I felt invigorated and content.

Well-Met

I love winter in the city
when everything is crisp and drawn in clean lines,
muted to neutral colors or classic
black and white –
timeless
like a photograph.
Something I can grasp
with my hands.

The sky descends to the earth,
gentle as a flurry, soft as first snow,
meeting at the horizon
in a lover’s kiss
like we did
all those winters ago.

I can’t remember when it was with precision,
only that it felt frozen and perfect
mirror-clear,
a framed moment under glass,
a promise
like a breath held.

met

P.S. For a look into my poetry process and other fun things, my friend Amparo has interviewed me here: STAYING AWESOME INTERVIEW SERIES: ALICE.

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*Thanks to Alz, Eva, and Tracey for their comments on this poem.
**Photos taken by Catherine.

Supplement:
(Music) Kiss Me Slowly | Parachute
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Color Memory

I’m going to revisit my recent trip to Arizona for this Flashback Friday. My family and I headed into the painted desert in mid-February. One of our destinations was the natural wonder that is Antelope Canyon, named for the herds of pronghorn antelope that used to roam the area long ago. It’s a slot canyon located in northern Arizona on the northwestern corner of the Navajo Nation, just 5 miles from the Utah border.

Antelope Canyon, or Hasdestwazi  (“spiral rock arches”) in the Navajo language, is famous for its gorgeous sandstone walls carved by rainwater and flash floods, which take on a spectrum of colors depending on the time of day. It is likely impossible to take a bad picture while you’re inside it. Just the kind of thing to inspire a little wander-verse.

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Desert Skies

Flashback Friday to this Twitter poem inspired by driving through the Mojave on the way home from Las Vegas.

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Heat is color coded sultry red gold
But I burn like desert skies,
fire-hearted, blue
feverish for you.