by Catherine Rockwood
Let me drown deep. Let me be lost and found inside this vase I once set on the ground. Lopsided glass, quick-fused to a small base. That’s easiest. Above it, thick, a crush of softening flowers, cut in early hush by servants of the palle who deferred each choice to me. And then, all day, I looked. The painter’s secret’s what the painter took, her hours. Find in my work record of those wherever leaf declines, where the red poppy bright daffodil, smooth tulips and narcissi subside with heads drawn downward by the dark that blooms inside the vessel holding them. Their water’s somewhat old and every stem pressed up against the glass has lost its prime but I these glories spent in saving mine.
Catherine Rockwood‘s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Reckoning Magazine, Scoundrel Time, SWWIM, Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet, and elsewhere. You can find her nonfiction and reviews in JMWW, Mom Egg Review, and Strange Horizons. Her poetry chapbook, Endeavors to Obtain Perpetual Motion, is forthcoming from the Ethel Zine Press in 2022.