Amy Whittlesey

I come from a line of shattered things
and throw away paper planes that flew for a moment
from steadfast sadness acres over

it’s hard enough to grieve alone
...

How then I found in you a balm
to salve a ripp’d-torn heart
It was your little ears, your eyes
celestial works of art
...

When I wake I put my feet on the floor
as dreams swirl about my head
I tend my clothes and my eyes adjust
from comfort’s vision
...

LOVE leaves you scars you

can't erase. LOVE hurts.
...

Don’t breath God if you want to write
that would turn the tables, Right?
and pledge a renaissance in lines
of beauty, and of beauty’s fines
...

this morning I was drafted
by your eyes blue
as blue can be
...

milk without honey
toast without jam
work without fridays
east without lamb
...

Steal my muse from another time and you’ll have run off with my soul
It takes a village to be sublime
my people out in metre’d rhyme
...

Millions upon millions of things happen
at once in this world, this universe, this scenario,
this room
...

The flying arrow found it’s mark
from heart to heart it grew
along the way to
pierce a lark as miseries ensued
...

When heaven decrees that
our time’s run out
and our bones become ashes
returned to the ground
...

I don’t want to be
your worn out mask
or haul your casket
anymore
...