LAURIE KOENSGEN

Corporeal

I know that is the moon

and not your lambent absence

but you’re everywhere tonight.

You’re reclining in this room.

You’re the loom on which my senses

weave their synesthesia.

You’re a figment of my body.

You enfold me like a sun-

spun shawl that no one sees.

They only feel the warmth

that radiates, from you,

through me.

Published in this clingstone love
(Pinhole Poetry Chapbook Press).

https://pinholepoetry.ca/shoppoetry/

Cathedrals

You’re a long slow moan

that I hear in my chest—

the way bugle music

thrums a choir,

the assembled mourners,

the ribs of pews.

In the open field

where first snow

has veiled the jaundiced grass,

two deer rub their muzzles

on frozen stubble, the length

of their elegance

a stand of bare trees.

A long slow moan

rises from the cold ground.

Published in Rust & Moth, Winter 2023,
and in this clingstone love (Pinhole Poetry Chapbook Press). https://pinholepoetry.ca/shoppoetry/

Laurie Koensgen lives and writes in Ottawa, Canada. Recent publishers include Rust and Moth, The New Quarterly, The Ex-Puritan, Literary Review of Canada, and The Hyacinth Review. Laurie is a founding member of the Ruby Tuesday Writing Group. Her latest chapbook, this clingstone love, is with Pinhole Poetry Press.  @lauriekoensgen