SPECIAL VALENTINE'S DAY EDITION OF:
MONDAY'S POETS!
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For Eric
I told you not to write me a poem
And I hope you didnšt
I wanted to write one for you
Just for you
Išve had a long time to get this done
After all, I knew two months ago
That Valentinešs Day would come
Here I am though, struggling at 9:30
I never really thought it could happen to me
Love (Being in it) not because Išm not worthy
Or anything, mostly because Išm lazy
Yet this whole experience has been effortless
One day I had no idea who you were
And now, I canšt imagine not knowing everything
Paris and the rest of Europe
To Do lists galore
Driving to nowhere
Stopping the car to take a picture
A reflection of a strangeršs house
An abandoned building
Feeding the cat
Opening the windows
Folding what seems like 300 plain white t-shirts
All things I love
But none of them as much as I love you
Unlike writing a poem for a poet
Loving you is no struggle at all
by Kari C.
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HANDS
The choir on the altar is singing about God
but they are not as holy as
the hands
two rows in front of me.
I can't see their faces,
only white hair and stooping backs.
But what matters is their hands:
his
gently drapes her shoulder
hers
reaches effortlessly for his,
so that they are no longer
his or hers.
Hands a rippling mountain range
of wrinkles and blue veins
gained through a lifetime of living.
Those hands:
have cradled new life
have toiled long hours,
have built a place to live,
have dug graves,
but always together,
even when not.
Hands that hold with the eagerness of fresh lovers
and the peace of old friends.
Those hands two rows in front of me,
they are only hands.
But they are all we are looking for,
all we are frantic to find.
By me: Kelly Staskel
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