Another Day, Another Year
The wind cries / I do not listen. You hold out your hand
one last time. Startled, a fox runs under the Clethra.
Clouds fill a darkened sky. I am soaked with a deluge
of tears. Mud collects at my knees. Where has the fox
gone? Needles pierce my soul, releasing blue desires.
Awash in a dream of yesterday / you never planned to stay.
I rip open my chest & tear out my heart. It washes away
with the storm / lost downstream. Another day, another year.
It might have been so different. The fox calls out, I follow.
Ann Christine Tabaka was nominated for the 2017 Pushcart Prize in Poetry. She is the winner of Spillwords Press 2020 Publication of the Year, her bio is featured in the “Who’s Who of Emerging Writers 2020 and 2021,” published by Sweetycat Press. She is the author of 14 poetry books and 1 short storybook. She lives in Delaware, USA, and loves gardening and cooking. Chris lives with her husband and four cats. Her most recent credits are Sparks of Calliope, The Closed Eye Open, Poetic Sun, Tangled Locks Journal, Wild Roof Journal, The American Writers Review, The Scribe Magazine, The Phoenix, Burningword Literary Journal, Muddy River Poetry Review, Silver Blade, Pomona Valley Review, West Texas Literary Review, The Hungry Chimera, Sheila-Na-Gig, and Fourth & Sycamore.
Visit her Website.
Editor’s Note: Clethra refers to the deciduous shrub, sweet pepperbush, in the family of Clethraceae.
Image Credit: An abstract fox [pngegg] re-colorized and superimposed on sweet pepperbush [Pinewood Farms]