Amy Souza

Inspired by Lené Gary’s art

when neighbors
complain of
the cold
I join in
to fit in

not wanting
to admit
that I like
how my body
defrosts
upon stepping
inside after
a long walk

the tingle
as my fingers
warm

even
the
runny
nose

an excuse
to go to
bed early
with a
book and
the weight
of too many
blankets

the usually aloof
dog nestled
close
all night long

.

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© 2012 Amy Souza. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.

After the storm, the floodgates opened and poured out a brown murky rush. It flew down its usual path, bucking up against concrete banks, topped with detritus picked up along the way: mile after mile of cigarette butts and beer cans, takeout containers and Slurpee cups, mysterious paper objects and every so often a novelty—a baby’s rattle, a dog’s collar, what looked to be an artificial limb.

Bouncing along, this river of remnants assumed a life of its own. Viewed from above, taken in as a whole, the thing mesmerized with its contrasting colors and changing composition. The way it moved made it appear sentient.

One could accept it, too, as evidence of our existence. No animal but man could create such an artifact. One could feel proud, if one were so inclined.

.

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© 2012 Amy Souza. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.

Inspired by Sean Callahan’s art

Truth is plural, you said
My truth, your truth, theirs
All of us are right
But none wholly so

So today release the struggle
Sit on a dock, feel sun on your arms
Tops of your feet, rough wood
Below locks you in place

Each soul needs rest
even as its fancies buzz and
swirl toward their passions
and calls from God

Drink in a day, feel a stretch along a spine
acknowledge the body for what it allows
Each breath entering deeply
Salt air on your tongue