Joy Hewitt Mann: Two Poems
Late Frost in May | With An Olive Leaf
Late Frost in May
Not a sound in the trees and the dim
branches weaving silently over my head,
beyond the path the blossoms of two almonds
simmer in the blaze of the moon.
Far off is home, the lurid flares of sunset
and smoke from between my lips.
A sudden wind lifts the fallen petals,
blows us all
toward the flames.
With An Olive Leaf
My parents flung me into this world
like Noah's dove, too
gentle for my own good
and I've been scaling the sky ever since
offering the words clenched in my mouth
to the sun.
Miles and miles of parched earth have been dragging at me,
sure that I've some prayer
to bring the rain. But
I have no answers.
The world may be a sea of watercolors
to a word weaver
but my skin burns just
as your own.
Joy's poetry has been published in various electronic and print journals including Amelia, Whetstone, Limestone, The Malahat Review, The Paumonok Review, King Log, Unlikely Stories, Apples & Oranges, Rose and Thorn and Poetry Now. Her awards include the 1997 Leacock Award for Poetry and this year's Acorn-Rukeyser Award. When not writing she runs a large junk store in Spencerville, Ontario, Canada. Her first poetry chapbook, Voices From The Other Side Of The Moon, was published in 1998 by Bard Press Books, NY.