Harbor
By Peggy Hammond
October 15, 2022
October 15, 2022
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In dreams, missed deadlines,
lost objects, impossible quests. Flame-colored signal flags of distress. The news is bloated with death; we turn it off, unplug the patient. The trees, gently greening, bend to steady breezes. Sea mist blankets night birds cooing behind us. Over a second cup of wine, we memorize intricacies in each other’s eyes, blue starred with gold, brown flecked with green. Fingers braided, we recognize but dismiss the hiss of time unspooling, red balloon releasing its breath. |
Peggy Hammond’s recent poems appear or are forthcoming in The Blue Mountain Review, Thin Air Magazine, Spare Parts Lit, Pangyrus, The Hyacinth Review, Thimble Literary Magazine, Olit, Club Plum, Red Tree Review, UCity Review, and elsewhere. She is a Best of the Net nominee, and her chapbook The Fifth House Tilts was published by Kelsay Books (2022). Find her on Twitter @PHammondPoetry.