POEMS | Poetry by SD Stalzer

somehow you thought you were stuck

that the things you came

into this world with

were all you had

the ability to think

through the problem

the way you could scrape

together an answer

from just little bits

of bare schooling

quiet mouth that watched

everyone with shyness

until you had the one safe

thing to say

until courage

that galloping heart

pried your lips open

with words of defiance

even though you were told

to keep your mouth shut

even though you knew

your reward

for lips pried open

might be a fistful of schoolboys

some thursday afternoon

until one day you

stood on the box

and climbed into the saddle

and you realized

that nose-to-tail

all ends up in the same place

and you noticed

that he’d listen

most of the time

to your gentle rein on his neck

and that in fact

you could ride

in any direction

without limits.

From Enchantment: Poems of Awe

Buy Enchantment: Poems of Awe

Horse Skull Resting in the Endless Grass

Horse skull resting in the endless grass,

servant fallen long ago,

runabout riders now passed,

Sutured cranium weathered white

by seasons of sun and snow,

dolomite in the midday light.

Flesh cleansed by vultures,

coyotes, and mice,

revealing a pristine sculpture,

chiseled alabaster,

evolutionary prize,

worked by the skills of a master.

When did your eyes last look back

to horsecakes in your saddlebags,

eager for a pat and well-earned snack?

What velvet muzzle

nuzzled mortal hands

as you dropped reins creekside

to rest sore muscles?

I trace your forehead, nostril to poll, imagining your life before,

and wonder what stumble

caused your soul

to land here,

a meal for carnivores.

From Enchantment: Poems of Awe

Buy Enchantment: Poems of Awe

It would not be nothing

Again she woke up
eyelids pushing
through the sun-squint
the dream of that blackbird

with its red and gold wing
protruding at the wrong angle
rising from the confusion
of another identical day

its rusty cry
aching in her belly
before her feet could
touch the floor

her floor
her home
a familiar cry
rattling her bones

a familiar feeling
that broken wing
that broken world
explicit in its nakedness

and she remembered
her early walks to the train
people still wrapped in blankets
on the frigid sidewalk

like frozen trash bags
waiting to be picked up
battle-fallen in
a war we won’t win

and she thought
when the world
breaks your legs
you’ll know the seams well

familiar edges ripped open
bones trailing splinters
as you walk on your knees
until your last step lays you down

and she considered
that somehow
this rusty voice could be hers
and she realized that

maybe her shea buttered arms
could shoulder the stiff rags
and that somehow
it would not be nothing.

First published in Know Thyself, Heal Thyself

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

Standing Waves

There is a place inside
my chest, or maybe
in my belly
where the waves stand still,
where quiet is the sound
of opening hands, and breath
comes easy and deep

sometimes I float to the top
of a tall crest
and see with clarity
the humming of the mind
across a timeless ocean,
the many voices
of the many faces, distant,
thoughts less fact, more react

sometimes for a brief moment
I swim in its grand span,
my molecules embraced
by trios of Hs and Os —
a homecoming of that
first watery world —
until the undertow
pulls me back down.

First published in Know Thyself, Heal Thyself

Photo by Matt Hardy on Unsplash

Cocoon of Epeolatry

retreating inward to sense
the scripturient source
beyond blurred eyes
damaged ears
to release the light
from inerrable goo
ripening into new
appendages
gestating wings of art
spread wide
immense breath
of the written word
reborn

First published in iPoetry

Image by Shanna from Pixabay