21 March 2020, Lombardia, Italia – by Bonnie McClellan

•May 26, 2020 • Leave a Comment

21 March 2020, Lombardia, Italia

 

everything stilled

the world has stopped

a spring

crowned with silence.

On the occasion of the municipality posting a letter asking people to pay their cemetery dues – by Bonnie McClellan

•May 25, 2020 • Leave a Comment

On the occasion of the municipality posting a letter asking people to pay their cemetery dues

 

Boxes of disremembered bones

expatriated into/out of locus

sad berth

the heartbreak of a January

blossoming cherry.

Paranoia by Bonnie McClellan

•May 24, 2020 • 2 Comments

Paranoia

 

Her eyes slide to the side

like a Sienese saint

Painted by the brothers who died in the plague

back when there were 100 stories to tell

while bodies rotted,

left where they fell.

Escape into a place where

 we can’t smell

we can’t feel

we can’t fear

But she’s convinced it’s coming:

selfie snapping

facial mapping

the lost weekend

the bottom

of the barrel.

 

Three Saints (oil on panel) by Lorenzetti

A Belated Poem for International Women’s Day

•March 14, 2019 • Leave a Comment

Her hair is like a flag,
like an olive branch,
distinguished by its colour,
(unique but the same,
as so many others),
flapping in the wind
fruitlessly offering
peace.

Cloud Towers

•July 12, 2018 • 1 Comment
Thunder is grumbling down again,
Out of that un-ironed pile of forgotten clouds,
towering over the Alps.
Sweltering, breaking heat
A few 11 o’clock fireworks,
Even here.
.
.
.
.

Communion

•July 10, 2018 • Leave a Comment

This evening’s fresh clouds burst, Scattering across the asphalt a handful of rain’s unseasonable black confetti.

A jug of wine,

No loaf.

No thou.

I feed among the lilies of this resplendent sky.

 

Mothers and Daughters: Communicating Vessels

•June 25, 2018 • 1 Comment

One year when the awakened plane trees
find themselves struck yellow in the night,
there will be nothing left of me but
a memory in your hands as they pull
wet laundry from the spun drum or
open the window’s case –
inviting October’s last, warm breath
to communicate the dust
between one room
and another.

by Bonnie McClellan

 

This was first posted in May of 2013.

 
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