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 mind Inmate 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 shoes then 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 cri...