Awakening
I can’t see light through winter’s ice
the pond froze over months ago
I’ve been waiting, contemplating
wrapped in the root belief of spring
one ending is a beginning
of something beautiful to come
slight tilt of earth proclaims new birth
a wide crack across the tundra
beneath bright skies I’ll surely rise
a brave lotus on chalk-blue waters
Morning Rush Hour
panic operates inside my chest
pulling every tactile lever
walk fast avoid shoulders
scan the menu stay off phone
I prance in place—pony with no name
just a number waiting to be called
314—314 I squeeze between bodies
no, not bodies, just more numbers
my heels clack-clack on pavement
purse on shoulder, drinks in hand
I’m the go-to-girl, the coffee getter
but if I smile wide enough, long enough
perhaps one day I’ll be, I dunno
assistant queen bee?
meeting planner desk organizer
the taker of notes someone’s right hand
for now I open doors with my hips
and dash for open elevators
asking fellow passengers
to push button number 10
I grit my minty teeth when we stop
on every floor delay is not an option
the coffee must never ever
arrive cold
Under Water
muffled sounds,
indistinguishable voices,
I sense they are talking—to me
but cannot remember why
I lip read,
sorry for your loss,
Oh! That’s what they’ve been saying
while I am under water
you are there,
somewhere behind me;
I wish you’d take my hand, lead me
up to the sunlit surface
memories
seep into my lungs;
is this how I’ll drown, watching
our replays in slow motion?
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About the Author
Arvilla Fee lives in Dayton, Ohio with her husband, three of her five children, and two dogs. She teaches for Clark State College, is the lead poetry editor for October Hill Magazine, and has been published in over 100 magazines. Her three poetry books, The Human Side, This is Life, and Mosaic: A Million Little Pieces are available on Amazon. Arvilla’s life advice: Never travel without snacks. Visit her website and her new magazine: https://soulpoetry7.com/
