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salovie · 1 hour
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You put aside cool
and wave me over;
I’m the grinning fool
who takes your hand.
I wish I could dance
with you forever;
Your quiet smile
says you understand mine.
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salovie · 1 day
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You deserve to rest
but you’re made of midnight things—
indigo and fangs,
a vanishing soul—
and night-graced heroes
know how to lift the lonely:
swing your heart-led sword of hope
and kill the demons for them.
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salovie · 2 days
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A forked path awaits;
Hesitancy slows her steps.
To swim or to climb?
To dive or to reach?
The mountain intimidates:
A looming ascent,
Steep to the summit,
But at least she can see it.
The sea calls louder,
Darker and hungry,
With depths unknown, but, perhaps—
Worlds to discover.
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salovie · 3 days
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one: a bloom of emerald,
budding and bursting and breathing,
new growth on the love line,
bright lime like fresh spring pine
another: green, begrudgingly,
waiting out a drought,
faded sage and from the shade
stealing glances at a verdant glow
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salovie · 5 days
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Remember the spark
We watched hit the rocks and die?
Wildfire conditions
Are never the ideal time
For a new and hungry flame.
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salovie · 6 days
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Heights to climb in midnight mind,
Mired in love, and wary—
Nightmares hunt a tired head
Hound the tower, haunt the bed,
Stalk the peak,
Provoke the flurry,
Hurry the fall,
Blur truth and worry.
Heights to climb in midnight mind,
stricken with love and fear combined.
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salovie · 6 days
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If only, robin,
I woke with you when worms were fresh,
and bounced through dewy grass,
held world and wind at wingtips:
would spring like my song best?
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salovie · 7 days
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Night Mantra
I’ll sing it for hours
Through wearying throat
Till every surface
Holds a lullaby note
Each bit of air rings
With an echo of song
That lingers in dreams
Well after I’ve gone
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salovie · 8 days
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Spotlit between elms, I sweat in the sunlight;
long deprived, my skin weeps for vitamin D.
I stick to the black mesh beneath us,
suspended over too-long grass
and the bugs that thrive there.
The clouds are cirrus—my favorite kind,
though they aren’t enough to ease our eyes,
squinted straight up at bright blue
and leaf-shine. You close yours.
The breeze carries a shiver;
my damp shirt becomes a cold compress.
That field below us whispers
as I draw your sticky body closer.
Someday this moment won’t exist
even as a memory.
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salovie · 9 days
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resolved, hushed to silence
winter gray
snow white
cold quiet
settled river, ancient peace
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salovie · 10 days
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When the sun has kissed every single smile you grow,
When the rain has wept away oceans of woe,
When the grass becomes field becomes meadow becomes forest,
When the birds have long memorized your sweet laughter’s chorus,
When the wind has whispered my love from all its directions,
When I run out of ways to share my affections:
through frost and flame, to mountains and shores,
Still you are mine, Still I am yours.
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salovie · 11 days
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lend me your fire and
I’ll tend it with care, name it
sunset’s heir, night’s squire
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salovie · 12 days
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There once was a child who already knew everything.
They knew when they had to brush their teeth.
They knew when it was time to go to soccer.
They already knew how they were supposed to play the card game.
The knew what you just said was a joke.
They knew how to do the homework, and must have just pretended not to know a minute ago
so you would feel included
but three words into your explanation was all they could tolerate
before breaking the news to you that they did,
in fact,
already know
what you were about to say.
They knew so much they must’ve actually just been a mind reader and a genius.
They knew so much, so extensively, with so much expertise, in every area of life
that they were the ones who should be teaching you.
Most especially, they knew they were loved,
because that were told so
“every single day, Mom,
I know.”
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salovie · 13 days
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Hospice
We sing the last line and then live in the coda.
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salovie · 13 days
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She never learned fear
(it looked too much like a cage)
plus they let her play with snakes
from a very young age.
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salovie · 15 days
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Ode to My New Bird Feeder
All others
felled
by the greed of squirrels,
the desperation of deer,
this one
I think
will finally
last—
a hardier home for the harvest,
a sturdier dispenser of seed.
It sways as it stays
caught
on pear blossom branches,
full
to the brim with oil black seed,
then
less so,
giving
and
giving,
bestowing the best
to nuthatch
to chickadee
to finch
to tit.
Yes, even some to spare
for squirrel,
who cannot help himself:
the acrobat,
pendulous for a picnic,
dangling for dinner.
My bird feeder
empties
with unending
benevolence,
letting friends take and take
and take
‘til it glints hollow in
late day’s light,
a giver, with empty hands
outstretched still.
Come morning,
mere moments
after seed pour
reaches the top,
it will open for all
and give
and give
again.
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salovie · 16 days
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She heard us all root for warmth and light,
for the sun to win out and end
winter’s deadness. Jealously,
slipping straight to spotlight,
Moon had her moment,
sweet as can be:
“You can cheer
for me
too.”
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