COULD NOT BE PARTED FROM ME
I give myself to the sea, a new
bride, ready to sew salt, breathe
brine. It’s not too late to go back
to my husband, the smell of earth.
But I plunge forward, ready to grow
seaweed-hair and barnacle skin, thin
sand will clothe me in, make my body
a desert. It’s dark now, deep, a cavern
of longing. My eyes become oysters. In
this conch-shell ear, I can still hear a
whispering I love you.
THIS PRAYER IS BIRDSONG
And honeysuckle, paradise held by
green thumb and forefinger. Let us
praise flower-faced god, remember
our own hearts in these hearts of
Lamprocapnos petals. You’ll see, I
know what God is. These golden
flecks and golden silence, our own
divine hands built for soil, and sand,
and air. Roots can be salvation, too:
mine and yours, woven together. A
perch for light to rest on, all these
branches wild and dappled. Sweet
apple blossom in our palms, listen
to tread-crunch of leaves underfoot.
If you’re quiet enough, you can hear
mountains speak. Because the Truth
is, snow drifts are divine, each tongue-
melted flake its own miracle. I want
to be baptized at the altar of Spring,
and bathe each other in dewdrops.
Write our hymns of jeweled sky, a
sun that no one can sunder from
Can I get an Amen for trees?
FLOTSAM & JETSAM
Spray leaps – joyous –
dancing from rock to rock
alive with its own becoming
Heralds tall wind, rain
foam and surf rejoice:
Jesse Holth is a freelance writer and editor based in Victoria, BC. Her writing has been featured in over half a dozen international publications. She was a 2017 Pen 2 Paper poetry finalist and her poetry was recently selected for a gallery exhibition. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Marathon Literary Review, Silver Birch Press, the University of Regina Press, and others. She is currently working on two full-length poetry collections.