Missing You
Missing You a poem by Dianna Henning – Published in “The Power of the Feminine Vol II”.
Missing You a poem by Dianna Henning – Published in “The Power of the Feminine Vol II”.
A doe stretches
to reach the topmost
leaves as she strips
our Mock Orange bush,
nose wet as a dew-
dipped blackberry.
The men I worked with at Folsom Prison,
walk single line
down the knife of night,
their eyes averted,
their blue jeans baggy
The fire carries on with the logs.
Clearly there’s something going on between them.
Like when we first met and harvested each other,
not with fire rather with flesh.
The years are rapt birds,
trilling their delight,
no salt on their tongues
no weights on their wings,
In an unpublished lecture on “Modern Ireland,” Yeats wrote: “And style, whether of life or literature, comes, I think, from excess, from something over and above utility which wrings the heart.” Yeast’s proclivity for writing was derived from his obsessive concern with time, with how quickly it catapults one into old age.
My but we were lovely, captives
and all. Each day the witch
would dress us up. She was keeping us
for herself.
If she were someone else’s sister
I’d again make her mine,
twist her bones
There’s only one stonethat matters. Cushioned in mudand clay and seaweed,it feeds on dreams. In the sludgeof spring’s first run-off,a hand might reach down,lift the nearby weight of one,skip it across water’sirrepressible bone. Whohas picked such a stonefrom amongst the many? And why that one? I was once touchedby such a stone and becauseof that…
This is my cutting board. These
are my hands adept at cutting. This
is my chicken whose neck I’ll sever.