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)