Read Poem: THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE HOME by Magdalena Munro

Why did Dorothy’s
slippers become a
fiery red?

They were always
silver

like strands of
tinsel billowing from
the beaks of blackbirds
in formation,

lifting up into a
caulked grey zone
above the outstretched
hands of dreamy
caravans,

streaking starspilled
skies ebbing and flowing
like the heaving chest
of God in a righteous
slumber.

Wake up –

I pass an estate
sale and am pulled
toward the buzzing
hum of a concealed
magnet.

Propped on draped
tables are trinkets,
battered books,
woolly coats,
and a leathery
parade of
clutchless
purses.

I finger the engraved
pewter of a baby spoon
and imagine the faraway
giggle of a peachy toddler
beyond the musty hallway
where strangers pick through
pieces from a departed one.

We carry her seeds into
vaulted spaces smelling
of citron and spruce.

Clutching the spoon,
I toss my dirty hiking
boots and slip into a
speck of silver.

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About poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film.
This entry was posted in 2018 Poetry, new poetry, poet, poetry, Poetry Festival, Uncategorized and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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