Winter Solstice

I stared into a controlled distance

one dangerous philosophical oversight

that could doom me.

Escaped from the mundane masses,

one chicken’s gaze to the sky

was cut short by a knee-jerk jump into “they”

landed on a spider’s golden map

that inhaled and exhaled with the breeze.

Once wrapped, “I-they”

dangled in its first web of impotence

and I could feel the winter solstice

through all three stories of this wood-framed house

that harbors a berry bush

birthing place for two fat mockingbirds

the windowpanes

the bricks mounting to seven stories next door

the news

green furniture\

green plastic ball

garden chairs inside

the bill collectors who show up on the telephone

when I undress.

The sun is escaping

in a darkness that folds onto itself

a density that stops fear like a pillow

in the one instant that is not long enough

to remember year after year

to reassure the sun will return

death will come out opposite on the other side

the mother will return

whole, a complete circle

pacing until I can hear my voice

on the radio

a wolf howling in a Cathedral.

Reclaiming Dreams

Firelight from stones piled above eye level

Dance on windows that close a forest

Coyote and owl voices piaffe

Synchronized in exhaling tempo

Penetrate the house that sits on earth’s shoulders.

Chestnut trees sprout in the oven

The burners are covered with moss

The forest tenderly lays a carpet

Of soil honeycombed with grubs

Over the damaged wooden floorboards.

Escapees

On the way from the kitchen to the parlor

Border Collies are on tennis courts

The busted screen door an eye pointing accusations outward

Battles for the ball on the court with no net

Are wiggling fish paths over fading white lines.

Amelia Arcamone-Makinano has written crime stories for The New York Post, Equestrian features for Horsemen's Yankee Pedlar, sales manuals in the closet of a cramped Broadway garment company, and poetry. She has been published in Ken*Again, Poetry Warrior Ezine, and the Recusant. Poetic inspiration is drawn from Classical Dressage at High Hickory Farm with Robin Mainwaring-Healey and she has been influenced by Duane Locke whom she met while studying at the University of Tampa. Amelia is currently teaching at Forest Hills HS.