Poetry By Joanne Esser

John Buie CC




​CHERRIES


Those mornings you wake alone in wrestled sheets 
and tell yourself your longing, especially in the light of day, 
is too sad, and because it’s real and you know it,

you can barely open your eyes, you keep the shades pulled.
It may be true, but it’s not all that’s true. You’ve tried
daily Mass, once upon a time, and podcast meditations,

cardio boot camp and yoga; you’ve flown to the Himalayas,
climbed a mountain so high you could hardly breathe the air.
You want to find the one and only key that unlocks the secret.

I was there, too. I have seen that same aching sky, 
looked for a hint of the heaven they taught us 
was up somewhere beyond our sight. I’ve held so tight

to the last straw, my knuckles white from clutching.
I swallowed my pride, my voice, put on the expected face
until they praised my calm and collected poise

in any public situation. Hide it, they said, and you do,
sometimes well, but I see how your eyes reflect the glare
on mornings like this one. We’ve all been broken,

no matter what they post on Instagram, what awards, 
what degrees, what salary. From one broken person
to another: Come over to my place. I’ll make coffee.

We can eat cherries, spit out the pits. You tell me
your nightmare, I’ll tell you mine. Our words
will evaporate them in the heat of the sun here 

on my porch. Rock in my rickety chair until
your body comes to rest. Until we are beyond words,
where we figure out how to bear that undying light.


​

Joanne Esser is the author of the poetry collections All We Can Do Is Name Them, Humming At The Dinner Table, and the chapbook I Have Always Wanted Lightning. Her new book of poems, Nothing Is Stationary, was released by Holy Cow! Press in June 2026. Recent work appears in Great Lakes Review, Humana Obscura, I-70 Review, and Dunes Review, among other journals. She earned an MFA from Hamline University and lives in Eagan, Minnesot