By Eva García-mayers

The Flower of Thought:
 
A dark petal of memory, 
wet roots—
 
A body rests 
against time. 
 
A loosening grace—
withered and soft bruises
 
blooming like clay
soothed into water. 
 
Half-made phrases 
dot the soil.
 
Winter slips away
into nothingness—
 
smiles and teardrops drift,
the sweet words of song ring.
 
Shining crows 
paint mean black rivers
 
into the soil.
A window 
 
glares
against falling snow. 
 
Long-lost faces drip 
into the flat fields 
 
where I collect 
some of your warmer colors
 
into bouquets of quiet
drunken brightness,
 
loneliness trailing
my cautious steps
 
into the ebbing shadows.

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This poem is by Eva García-mayers. I am grateful to her for many inspiring writing sessions in Zoom and in parks and public spaces of San Diego. She graciously gave permission to post some of her texts on this site.

I am hoping to be able to post more texts by other writers and poets on this blog. Texts by friends from writing groups. Texts that speak to me. And I am hoping: will to you …