11/16/2016 2 Comments Two Poems by Tricia Marcella CimeraThe Trees Rise Up Darkly The trees rise up darkly in the woods behind my house but I’m never afraid. I know all the firs, the pines; they never change. I don’t want to leave but my father is calling me, says it’s time, get in the car. On the psychiatric ward the nurses, the orderlies, the other patients stand between my mother and me, blocking out her face, my sun. Your mother is-- Your mother is-- they all say as if she has no voice to talk, as if she’s no longer mine. It’s true, I don’t know her anymore. Her dark hair is disheveled, her eyes flat stones and one thin bare arm wears a hospital ID bracelet that hangs like a leaf from some strange sick tree. The Dreams in Which I’m Dying (Barn) The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had — Roland Orzabal When I was young and beginning to come into what I was, I jumped out of a hayloft onto a big pile of hay in the neighbor’s old dead barn. A pitchfork was hiding in there but I missed it. No one saw. I never said a word to any of you shouting and playing, just ran away, pulling chaff out of my mouth. You laughed, called after me with your pretty, wheedling voice; the barn waited. Now every night I dream of jumping out of that hayloft and every time I land I’m impaled by that gleaming pitchfork again and again. And in my dream I wonder who you would be if I had not lived to run out of that old dead barn and this, this dream is the best I’ve ever had. Bio: Tricia Marcella Cimera is a Midwestern poet with a worldview. Look for her work in these diverse places (some forthcoming): Buddhist Poetry Review,The Ekphrastic Review, Foliate Oak, Failed Haiku, I Am Not A Silent Poet, Mad Swirl, Silver Birch Press, Yellow Chair Review, Wild Plum and elsewhere. She has a micro collection of water-themed poems called THE SEA AND A RIVER on the Origami Poems Project website. Tricia believes there’s no place like her own backyard and has traveled the world (including Graceland). She lives with her husband and family of animals in Illinois / in a town called St. Charles / by a river named Fox.
2 Comments
Jeri Thompson
11/17/2016 04:36:27 am
Very powerful poems! I love the way you set a tone here. Your descriptions remind me of Willa Cather's My Antonia. She's one of the top 5%!!
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Tricia Marcella Cimera
11/18/2016 10:36:37 am
Thank you for your kind comment, Jeri! I appreciate your support very much. Now I must go and read MY ANTONIA. . .
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