Andrea Moorhead (6 poems)
Migrations
The child carried a turquoise amulet
on a hemp cord
someone told him the wind would pass over
and rain never soak
but snow remained on his heart
building a tower of phantom ice.
*
A corner of light caught in the curtain
disappearing
shadows as we move around the room
dropping dusty cells and floating hair
tripping over accumulated stones
swept in on an errant sea
If dreams were porous
The orphanage had neither doors nor windows
wind and rain slipped in overnight
soaking the blankets
every face suddenly and turning towards
the open spaces
shafts of dark and light
repeatedly hitting the frames.
If one were to communicate now
He’s buried words along the edge of the woods, somewhere near the granite boulders. There’s a small, fast stream on the southwest boundary. No words down there, maybe a comma or a semi-colon, nothing heavy. The water is still clear. The oak leaves have a bluish cast now, their veins intense emerald. I can’t recall seeing this before. The leaves shine while you speak, almost disappear in the silence that follows.
Quick Images
Rounding the corner, a streetlight on stilts, the way a child imagines it late at night after everyone else is in bed and the books have been shelved, there’s something in the darkness that glows and moves, following the path of least resistance, moving down the street, swaying with the wind.
If the window were open
Distant lights from a passing train
it’s windy close to the house
the windows are stained with pollen
buzzing around the door
the screens still in the shed,
I haven’t seen anyone out walking tonight
the train has slowed down
its lights twinkling,
a child opens his window
hoping to catch the sound of the whistle
as it crosses into the far fields
cutting its lights, turning into the night.
Andrea Moorhead, born in Buffalo, New York, is the publisher of the prestigious international magazine, Osiris. Her most recent book is The Carver's Dream (Red Dragon Fly Press). Her poems have appeared in journals such as Abraxas, Great River Review, The Bitter Oleander, Phoenix, Poetry Salzburg Review, and elsewhere.