Solstice
Healed like ice seals the pond
Skin cells wall the wound
Halting ripples—Sound closed down
What’s still is well—Earth moves round
Epiphany
Sleep may stir deepest doubt
Today my little son
Collected on our Trinity
& dreaming walked among
& rose in Jasmine to his chest
First winter night, the longest yet—
Preoccupied with Paradise
Quiet Game
(ladies & gentlemen)
never decide
to
speak
with
a
full mindInmate
A hotel is a body
it chooses how we see
& floor to floor
assigns a safe—
& safety—
for a fee
Superior People
rarely uncap
but some cannot withhold—
although restrained, they
pop & bubble, all honesty
& offerings—
each writhes at insincerity
yet
reliably
will
knot your tie & lace your shoesthen stuff your mouth
with solitude
Elizabeth Savage is a professor of English at Fairmont State University and poetry editor for Kestrel: A Journal of Literature & Art. New criticism and poetry appear in Quo Anima: Spirituality and Innovation in Contemporary Women’s Poetry; Journal of Modern Literature; Court Green; Denver Quarterly; Hotel Amerika; and Shenandoah.