Shovel
Seems
as though
I never dug
a hole
where I didn’t
hit stone.
Roots
There’s no tearing
your self up
by the roots
and keeping your hands
clean.
Dawn
Have you ever seen
a red bird
light
on a strand
of barbed wire
at dawn?
Stray
To be
a black cat
in blue cold
waiting
for any door
to open.
Puddle
Standing water
looks me
in the eye
so long
I see
clear through
my self.
Randi Ward is a writer, translator, lyricist, and photographer from West Virginia. She earned her MA in Cultural Studies from the University of the Faroe Islands and is a recipient of the American-Scandinavian Foundation’s Nadia Christensen Prize. Ward is a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee whose work has appeared in the Anthology of Appalachian Writers, Asymptote, Beloit Poetry Journal, Cimarron Review, The Cortland Review, Thrush Poetry Journal, Vencil: Anthology of Contemporary Faroese Literature, World Literature Today, and other publications. For more information, visit: www.randiward.com/about
Cover Photo: “Tree-Chained Birds” by Eugenia Loli (http://eugenialoli.tumblr.com)