Tag Archives: Patrick Bahls

Hydrangea

She smokes them end-to-end sometimes, a pack a day, flicking the dead butts into the branches of the cobalt-blue hydrangea. They make a dirty breadcrumb trail back to her Gretel, a scamp in green capris with dusty cuffs chasing chickens … Continue reading

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Bloom

when rain falls on the white magnolia blooms they shake like bridal bustles and in the end the petals drop but the leaves wear a green silk taffeta             even in the winter when snow piles on their backs like sherpas’ … Continue reading

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my darling child

for the children of Houla my darling child, my darling child, my restful baby – you gave life to me my feathered cloud, my inward smile,             my robin-red-breast – my long-tailed kite, my open fields, my impish delight – my … Continue reading

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Flight

I went once more inside your house, seeking one last look. But there was nothing left – Naylor and Kandinsky had fled behind you. You’d taken everything, even the echoes my footsteps might have made. In the closet where your … Continue reading

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On hearing of Adrienne Rich’s death

I sat inside an unlit room, waiting for a lover who was running late. I sat in silence, clouds gathering outside, wind taking dogwood blossoms from the branches and scattering them on the pavement as if to make a bridal … Continue reading

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Canyon Ferry Lake

All sound dies of cold, our breath suspended in the air, each step a hundred augers in the ice.                                                    Out on the lake the ice makes sounds like groaning from something deep and old. Beneath us fish frolic with mercurial … Continue reading

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