by Toni Ortner | Sep 29, 2021 | Poems
The language I speak is a language of grief When we heard the guns we grabbed what we could. The bullets shattered the windows and splintered the doors. The floors shook. There was no place to run or hide. I grabbed two dish towels because I happened to be standing in...
by Toni Ortner | Sep 29, 2021 | Poems
The chunks of ice are melting. In the distance the steel spires of the city glitter above the still water where bloated bodies float. The marble steps the paintings the libraries the museums the ancient statues and books. All gone. We knew the glaciers were melting....
by Toni Ortner | Sep 29, 2021 | Poems
Alone we burn Alone we burn through dark catastrophes of grief the death of bone and flesh each moment a new green leaf where hope holds sway over deceit. As Earth Rides Earth rides waves of light and air Pink clouds float behind the dark bark of trees. We cannot...
by Toni Ortner | Sep 29, 2021 | Poems
What’s left when you are dead? I used to hold your hand but your flesh is dust and your bones are buried in mud. My brother and I tossed you into the Bay like you wanted and added a huge rose bouquet. We made sure it was red. My fingers gnarled like the roots of...
by Toni Ortner | Sep 29, 2021 | Poems
Lights out or the weather of the apocalypse When water rolls in sudden over land, the pink marble steps that led to the museum will be thrust apart & scattered over sand as if by a giant’s hand. Cans will burst and tin will turn to rust. Beans and corn will rust....
by Toni Ortner | Sep 29, 2021 | Poems
Call from Scientologist Friend Hi Terry, It’s me. Marcia. I had to tell you that Scientology has saved my life. I haven’t heard from you since you left Brattleboro. What’s going on? Well, for one thing I have no more financial stress. How come? I live on community...
