Monday, March 1, 2021

Women's History Month: Monday, March 1, 2021 "Two Poems by Cynthia Linville"



“We contain the other, hopelessly and forever.”

—James Baldwin

In the end, it doesn’t really matter

who loved who more

Loneliness is a siren

that keeps drawing us back

Perhaps we are the lucky ones

blazed by the redemptive power of

accidental truths –

smokey orange and blistering

           * * *

The blisters and smoke don’t really matter

The fire calls us back


is lit by our own match

We’re lucky –

we haven’t lost that fire

we haven’t forgotten what it feels like

to be blazed by love

           * * *

Love itself is redemptive

is a spark that ignites

We blaze our own truth

our own luck

In the end, it’s all

smokey flames and blisters

© 2021 Cynthia Linville


The weight of it in your fingers

unpolished, but alive

coldest just before sunrise

Its liquid voice

chanting you into

the center of

your hollow labyrinth

Chances you squandered like rain

slippery, without edges

echo and echo and echo

*  * *

Persistent voices echo

from the center of your labyrinth

chanting squandered chances

like falling rain


unpolished, but alive

the liquid weight

falls through your fingers

Always coldest just before sunrise

*  * *

Cold sunrise edges sharply

cutting the labyrinthine chants

soothing your voice

into liquid

polishing you


into life

Drops of light


in your cupped hands

echoing away the night

© 2021 Cynthia Linville

Cynthia Linville is a poet and photographer who collaborates with musicians. She was managing editor of Convergence: an online journal of poetry and art for ten years, and her two books of collected poems, The Lost Thing and Out of Reach, are available from Cold River Press. Visit her website at

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