dislocation and Other Poems

By

dislocation

the crusher hit – blindsided me.
so soon after the turmoil in the soul
came the blow that severed me from my last link to the dancing.

it left me numb, restless, questioning everything
i thought i knew because – platitudes aside – it’s obvious
there are some things beyond one’s accomplishment.

cold comfort when the puzzle you’ve been part of
is complete without you and the bareboned spectre of defeat
is peeking sardonically in your window.

drawn in, crablike, i think in circles,
my carapace worldworn, battered
by the heavy seas i’m swimming.

time was i saw, far-off but shining, something better to be claimed.
now that bright vision has faded to a vaguely-rendered outline,
shadowed by time’s delusive remembrance.

winging it

too late to celebrate
anything but that we've found each other
i smile at your smile
knowing you are the priest
i've been waiting for

the one who can read the intricacies
of my bones brain blood
and all that can be seen only by those
with the inner eyes

we
who have travelled such disparate roads
to arrive at this juncture
need a miracle to survive

the tide is rising
red with a furious rage now freed
to destroy the foundations of everything
we thought could never crumble

there's not much time to save ourselves

side by side we'll close our eyes
spread our arms wide
and crying to heaven
fledge the feathers needed to lift us above
the coming deluge

if we don't fly we'll drown

one morning in may

it will be
daylight soon. the sky is
not yet light;
its inky
blackness is outlined with rust.
a lone bird calls. its


chirp carries 
that same rust, a harsh
morning call.
it's an odd
spring, broken by unmatched days – 
cold, warm, rain, sun, a

checkerboard
of inconstancy
contrasting
sharply with
the unvarying sameness
of isolation

keeping us
from the usual
delights of
the season.
the beach is verboten, the
golf courses closed, and

picnics are
out of the question.
a brave new
adventure
in pioneering, all of
us left to our own

resources,
an unnatural
environment
stretching the
limits of sanity and
ingenuity.

when we're freed
from captivity
into a
strange new world –
so much and so many gone –
thinking of how long

it will take
to adapt to a
new normal – 
or if there
will be a normal, given
the catastrophic

upheaval
of everything we
thought we knew,
i tremble,
wondering if nothing but
a new prison waits.

RC deWinter’s poetry is widely anthologized, notably in New York City Haiku (NY Times, 2/2017), New Contexts 2 (Coverstory Books, 9/2021) in print: 2River, Event, Gargoyle Magazine, the minnesota review, Night Picnic Journal, Plainsongs, Prairie Schooner, Southword, The Ogham Stone, Twelve Mile Review, York Literary Review among many others and appears in numerous online literary journals.  She is also one of the winners of the 2021 Connecticut Shakespeare Festival Sonnet Contest, with publication forthcoming.