Poetry

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Elisabeth Murawski

The sky’s a murky green. You stop the car
in heavy rain to take my hand and pray.
Is this a truce? An end to civil war?
Honey in your voice. Keep us safe you say,
and I am moved to hope, my spirit light
despite tornado’s threat across the miles
we’ve left behind. I’m never one to fight,
fish in a barrel, fooled by Cheshire smiles.
You’re a lion taking stock of the lame
gazelle, an X-ray sighting fractured bone.
I can’t forget your hail of words to shame
my pale esteem, slight as a crescent moon.
All’s quiet now. The storm that pulled us near
moves on. We drop hands. No lark sings here.

Elisabeth Murawski is author of Heiress, Zorba’s Daughter, Moon and Mercury, and two chapbooks.
Originally published:
July 1, 2018

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