Shirley Anne Alexander Poems

The day we buried Eddie, it snowed.
We gathered like penguins on ice,
all in black; black suits, dresses,
black umbrellas turned against gusts.
...

I am as a miner on his mountain of grey,
calculating the loss of sweat for profit.
The land I hold writ to name my own
will choose to remember nothing of me,
...

He was a short man,
but there was a certain way he stood;
his silhouette strong and familiar
like a steeple in times of worry.
...

Walk softly, the old woman said.
Leave nothing disturbed.
Children and warriors knelt near campfires
to be warmed by the wisdom of her life.
...

Sometimes we connect;
unexpected moments of touching.
I think you never remember
the pain of a young girl who knew.
...

Fara comes to me often lately,

comes down from Grey Hill,
...

Bumble Jack was a simple soul
and he had a simple plan.
He caught a train and headed west
to be a gun slinging man.
...

I carry a small black pouch in my heart.

Baggage packed in the seventies
...

She wasn't really my friend, you see;

she just stirred a curiosity in me
...

Three wise kings, noble and fine,
once traveled together through the night,
tired and weary but faithful still;
they would witness a prophecy fulfilled.
...