Poetry from Amy Jirsa

This is how 

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you become
a ghost. Repeat
yourself. Stand
in the corner
of your childhood
bedroom. Wish
so hard for someone
to take care of you
that the small haunt
of a child, stowed
beneath a quilt
too heavy
for the season,
can no longer bring herself
to look in that corner
or to notice how
that section
of wallpaper
refuses to fade,
refuses to give up
its only color.

 

The Last Glass 

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It’s strange when, alone
for the first time in fourteen
years, you break a glass
and realize there’s no one left
to warn.


Amy Jirsa is a wandering gypsy of a yoga teacher-herbalist-poet. Her book, Herbal Goddess, was recently released by Storey Publishing.

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