SHARON OSMOND

CORA IN WINTER

MMMMMMMMMMMMMsick of weather

leansMMMMMa reed in the blind of the river

covers her ears at four o’clock MMMMMMMagainst the clash

–carillonsMMMcordateMMMredMMMthick as thighs

blue, she saysMMMhollowlyMMMand sees behind closed eyes

bottle gentiansMMMcoraclesMMMthe cloistered botany of purple vespers

she turnsMMMweeds tangle her hairMMMplankton fills her mouth

in her goddess-graceful bonesMMMabsence MMMdespair

years in a riverMMMgreen as a tiled bathroom

and fullMMMof echoed vowels

MMM

MMM

INTERVAL

MMMmeanwhileMMMa sheer fall

challisMMMin red waverMMMas the day

goes slant in vowels:

said MMMtall-backed chairs MMMwalled opacity

all weak-windowed at the hour of him

whoMMMpale and bluishMMMwrapped in weedsMMMthe smell of graves on him

or thick waterMMMthe rest MMMnight-cleft

silent and tornMMManother doorMMMa rift

but the nounsMMMwhere are theyMMMthe mother asked

some words for cloudsMMMbut turned instead toward the red division

muddled duskMMMmarked as footfallMMMwritten

MMM

MMM

Sharon Osmond lives in Oakland with her husband, Dennis and a mostly feral female tabby-cat named Tilda. Sharon received her MFA in poetry from Saint Mary’s College in Moraga.  In 2008, her book-length series of poems, Behind the Eye, was a finalist in the National Poetry Series and for the May Swenson Poetry Prize as well.  She curates a summer reading series in her thickly-planted, mirror-haunted garden