Thursday, June 20, 2024: Carole Mertz's " Night’s Thinking Moves Through Shadow" and "Ashes"

Night’s Thinking Moves Through Shadow

anchoress sits

darkly through night

no help proffered

nor sought    she wants 

tranquility

 

clouds waft o’erhead

winking thoughts in-

ward    raking through

bad memories

 

she spies stylus

resting in her

wrinkled white hand—

resignation

 

let them bring her

to task    ask what

they will    shift toward

celestial quests

 

at last    a cloud-

break    a summons

a washing   and

eternal rest

© 2024 Carole Mertz

                                                                                    © photo by marie c lecrivain 

Ashes

 

It was the crossword that requested

The stuff the Hibachi left behind

 

It was the stuff we saw on the windy

mountain top, trees blackened and sordid-

 

looking—nothing appearing as it should 

be. Squalor there to match the downfall

 

of cities. It was the stuff you tried

not to think about after the cremation. What

 

to do with the remains. How to make 

sense of it all. And this stuff that we are,

 

hopefully of more substance than dust. The

stuff we will become, soon enough. 

© 2024 Carole Mertz

Carole Mertz, critic, poet, and essayist, enjoys working in her garden while contemplating the hardiness of weeds and the fragrance of beautiful flowers. She is the author of Toward a Peeping Sunrise (Prolific Press, 2019) and Color and Line (Kelsay Books, 2021), a collection of ekphrastic, and other poems. She is a multiple Pushcart Prize nominee.