Poetry by Julie Novak-McSweeney

       George Bremer CC




Angel Life

       1.
My early taste
for cigarettes
and vertigo
crouched me
in mom’s bathroom
every dirty morning

locked in against
questions exhaust fan
on loud shouting
“yes yes I’m all right
NO I’m not smoking
don’t you trust me”

cranking open the
tiny window
flushing, flushing
the bitter ends.


       2.
Some joy rolling
down the roads
singing to
dad’s car radio

higher and higher

open, open
and
I got my mojo working.

Not that I could
tell a mojo
from a mackerel.
I was twelve,
longing to be
Harriet The Spy.

Meanwhile days 
of plaid uniforms
chalk dust
monotonous
piety and spite

all marked me,
indelible. That’s how
I thought
when I thought.

Up I grew
became
close personal friend
to grape and grain.

No singing now.

Sparks flew.

Nights got later.

Forty years
of days shed like ash
of putting my fire
out.


       3.
Angel Life
stepped in. Wised me
up to earth from
Lucifer romance.

Crawling through
The wreckage

in a stronger light
I plugged the jug
bent my last
coffin nail

pocketing pride
surrendering to
the All in All.


       4.
Forty years
late but right
on time

Angel Life roars in
like rain
falls like spring
bursting my flowers
of throat, of hands
open, open.

Forty years
late I show
up for future
pages, revisioning

my days. I don’t shed them
now, they rocket
past and through me

and even the pen guides my hand like a mother
to the waiting page, the clean-washed day.

​


​
Two full moons in one month


now comes young one   silver daughter   raven
through ghost-path clouds.

now comes bonecutter   huntress   axehead Moon
twin-bladed, gleaming.

I’ll call Her down, I’ll light my way with Moon:
Her sharp reserve,

Her ever-change. With such a lantern I'll
turn boat and sail

Her currents. Steady-footed I will prowl
Her midnight cliffs.

I will turn siren, live alone, and lure
my self  ashore.

​

​
Back in the 90s/early 2000s, my poetry appeared in New Millennium Writings, The Louisville Review, Mobius and Ruah. But issues with depression, family illness, financial obligations—in other words, life—overwhelmed me, and I stopped writing for nearly 20 years. But! Now I’m back at my desk, working every day. Whew! What a relief!