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Moving From Santa fe   Leave a comment

Moving From Santa Fe

there are those things that mean something

and all the odd shapes and shadows to pack away

luckily the 5-inch origami swan that came

with promises of luck fits in the double-boiler pan

in a box marked “kitchen”


what to bury in the yard, what to bury in a box

keep the dog’s ashes?  holding her beaded collar

brings back the reds and blues bright on her black fur

this move is a chasm, a crevice, a break

this time she goes alone without the man or the old dog


she packs two hearts, one glass, one with Frida Kahlo’s face

both breakable         puts the book of love poems by Pablo Neruda

beside the moon-gazing hares because the fit is right

it’s said Neruda never learned division

not good at splits and break-ups


she packs, runs the clear tape across the box, sighs

pulls black marker from pocket and  writes on the box

out-of-work swan, Tucker’s collar, crevices,  pots, pans,

Pablo poems, moonless hares, and bits of lonely


recipes for calabacitas and biscochitos go in a box

memories of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains

pressed into box corners and coat pockets

another leaving with things that refuse the box –

goodbyes can’t be pushed inside


or the skipping raven carrying the red hanky

the same raven who caws good morning

from the cottonwood tree everyday


who will answer her tomorrow?


Mary Strong Jackson

July 12, 2015


Posted August 13, 2015 by strongjacksonpoet54 in Art, poetry

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