Erin Elizabeth

Two Poems

To Wake

It's all in the waking, the ceaseless
turn of body, like snow. I am loosely
adhered, the epoxy of self-forming strings
of hill beneath skin. I am tired, but my eyes
won't fasten, and you and I, we are Inguz*, 
interlocked as two birds in unsynchronized 
flight. I press the blunt end of palm 
into eye, uprooting sleep, lash; 
I am quiet, and slip like fog from the humidity 
of you, to throw morning onto face, to wake, and drown,
quietly, in your infinite reflection. I am learning 
to be a sunrise, a slow, subtle avalanche 
of light, and not just a sink with two 
faucets, a thousand shades of pale.

 *rune of love 

Seeing You, Weeping, in My Dream

I saw you rise from my sleep last night
with wings of peeled onions, their teary 
parchment arced triumphantly
from your shoulder blades, fanning the air
like taut, tropical fronds.

When I told you to be free, I never meant like this.

Erin Elizabeth makes her home in the thick soup of New England accents, primarily Providence, Rhode Island where she runs Stirring, a monthly literary collection.

Some recent publications include Pif, 2River, Gravity, Disquieting Muses, Agneiska's Dowry, pith..., Mentress Moon, and poetry downunder. Awards include third place and platinum honorable mention from the Amazing Instant Novelist, and Favorite Featured Poet of the 1999 by Poetry Superhighway. Erin is also a five-time winner of Anima's Poetry Slam and a 16-time winner of the now defunct Insomniac Asylum's Poetry Slam.

Email Erin at ErinElizabeth@gumballpoetry.com

Want to see what reviews look like? Click here
Like this poem? Send this link to a friend