Tag Archives: stillborn

~lesser than

half-moon belly
slight curve

like lost night
to mourning’s bright

churchdoves flew
the steeple
this ninth day
of august

your body
gone from me

tiny wings flutter

slow hours
blue a dying field

a solitary pilgrimage
follows the holy fog

nearer the breath of god

RIP JonThomas
By Lori Hamilton, © 2015, All rights reserved.



to be a lonely tree on a lonely hill
rooted deep with grief

what once connects to me, leaves

august grieves
again, the weightless fall
small hours of my mourning

watch a whitewashed woman in her
uncertainty fade with the fog
her aimless stroll
her milk-heavy ache

watch the warbler, bare-breasted
nesting wheat with tangled verses

threading condolence the color
of poetry

lah  7.8.15




age: 27
black naturally forgets
it is a color
and simply assumes a space

forgets our necessary moon

          those lies

age: 6
flesh swells from manipulation
of being picked
too soon

unripe cherries still bleed

in the beginning
I was naked hands
and suspicious hips

a half-announced uprush
of choice words and

the salvage of saltwind

an unsmiling sun

age: 35
freckles connect on
unfolded thighs
an arc of pelvis

shifting weight is lifted
with a buoyancy of bodies
shaped like patience

and monogamy

now my foot is snared

scatter the ashes
rupture the heart

a muddy ohio river
is too narrow to hold

this many dead souls

age: 39
in the mirror I whisper to a creased

there are reasons for
stone pillows and
pale wildflowers

and bottoms of bacardi bottles
where it hurts to breathe

tiny bodies at rest

the incurable in-

blue words always dissolve
in ink and water

©  lori hamilton




uprooted seed sprouts

     grown out of season

I planted you in a womanly garden

nestled among the grounding

you were my womb-flowers

summer-blue blossoms not to be


     the wing flutter

     of august afterpastures

and I longed for your scent

     soft petals against my breast

     small swallows of milkweed

fallow the deathfields where we bury


hold strong, the streamwaters

that carry a stillborn


swim upward, float on


dwell unbloomed within the arc

     a living peace of sky

     forever vined to

     my mourning

©  lori hamilton