Two Poems

by

PHOTO OF A VASE SMASHED ON PAVEMENT

when you wake up
too early
unable to explain
what sleep took
I don’t know
what else to drop
or what to do
with the time
between now
and when
the snow stays
through July
just to show
which flowers
live in cold
I was taught
not to pick
anything wild
unless I could see
at least ten of it
it was a good reason
to learn to count
without looking
I know you are
just one

 

YEAR

walking a circle
the thought of
sawdust in my mouth

green plants
not evergreens
but green greens
fence fence wood

I knew I knew to walk
this way
I knew I knew to turn
when I did

trying to stop being sad
it was like I really believed
in god

to see everyone
in their rooms
is a movie

not god
but angels or heaven
or that at least
you’re somewhere
listening
to the new song
I like
before I know
I like it

some trees lose
their leaves
in the fall
some have to wait
until the next
ones come in
before the old
drop to the ground

the empty municipal pool’s
layer of snow
melts uneven

broken down cars
with special edition license plates
to save the forest

I don’t know how
to start loving nature
by no longer looking at it
but I am willing to try

the house I was supposed
to lead to
the one from which
now away
I am walking

 


CL Young is the author of two chapbooks, including What Is Revealed When I Reveal It to You (dancing girl press, 2018). Her work has appeared or will appear soon in Lana Turner, the PEN Poetry Series, Sixth Finch, The Volta, and elsewhere. Currently based in Colorado, she is taking suggestions re: where to live next.