I would rather be trapped in your body

Banished from earth

Beneath your rib cage

Adjacent to your heart

Spend the rest of my life in solitary confinement

Behind the bars of your bones

Just to be adjacent

Just to be near


Lorraine Pejai Smith, USA

Winter Spirits

The sky is a sheet of ice dripping into a pail.

The cold is the embrace of my dead grandmother.

Her voice the call of the crows in the sleeping trees.

The black feather I found on the steps is her letter to me.

I am a voice with no song.


Down the path and up the hill are the remnants of a house.

The foundation outlines a square on the ground.

Stones cemented into the last of the chimney splits the wind in-two.

A hawk circles over the place.

The chalk-line collapsed.

The level unlevel.

I hum.


Linda Morgan Smith, USA