A Poem by Priscilla Atkins

Priscilla Atkins

Priscilla Atkins

Priscilla Atkins lives in Holland, Michigan and has a collection, The Café´of Our Departure, forthcoming from Sibling Rivalry Press in March 2015.

February 10, 2013
 
No blue so self-
righteous (riotous)
as this morning-
kind taking itself
for granite; sun
splinters brights
through windows,
inspires me to zip
quilted coat over
pjs, float in my
car down to the
yellow-and-white
house on the lake
with a convenience
store called The
Hatch. Going home
a page at a time,
a bank of cloud moves
in; the day turns talc.
Snow on the ground
is whipped icing
my mother once
used to frost my
cake. Crème
fraîche. I love
second-floor
views, built-in
shelves, horses
(never had a
horse––don’t
want one––all
the same, they’re
welcome), accent
marks and drinks
with froth. Eleven
beech trunks filling
our yard are so––
mammaly. And in
this new light
(see what you miss
when you go to
church?) they’re
something else.