deadpaper
 
fiction
poems
 
about deadpaper
     
lois wilson
 
   

Lois Wilson was born in Kobe, Japan, where her parents were missionaries. Since coming to the U.S. as a teenager, she has lived and travelled in both the east and west coasts of Canada and the U.S. and finally settled in St. Augustine, Florida, to be near her sons and their families. It is her dream to go back to Italy one day to live and write.

Her books of poetry include Suicidal Lizard, Moon, Sustenance, White Space, and I am a Cockroach, all of which can be ordered through loiswilsonpoems@yahoo.com. The series of short poems published here is from her new collection, Knots.

 
   
from Knots
 
-------------------------------
there are so many shades of green
on this scrap of grass where I sit
studying the gnats the single bee
and more green
 
------------------------- 
the zen returned
when I dropped the
weights from
my heart
the desperate wanderings
of my mind
and noticed only
 
the scrap of sea-tossed
wood
 
------------------------------- 
I would rather
turn aside and stare
at the bottle of ketchup
on that greasy table
with the burned out, spit dampened
cigarette butt
lying against
the flamingo decorated ashtray
while the broken bottle
drips beer dregs
onto the dirt floor
 
than your face.
 
--------------------------------------- 
I have seen
how brown the water in the sink
with bits of tomato
floating on top
and it seemed to reflect
my empty heart
 
I have seen
when the night shuts in
after I turn the key in the lock
how silent the house
how empty my bed
even the windchimes
can't move
I blow out the single candle
(o hopeful scent of cedar!)
the flame flickers
a last desperate breath and
my tear finally
finally falls
 
------------------------ 
solitude is a masturbation of the soul
sometimes necessary
sometimes satisfying
but not in the best way
 
-------------------------  
a single drop falls
onto the cloth
a quiet red
this is how my joy falls
 
------------------
there are moments
when those knots are so tight
I struggle to loose them
with a passion
that surprises me
I think I can't breathe
there are no windows in my captivity

I am not set free by a hero

I let go the fight
my heart calms
I see the beautiful intricate roots
of the tree
from underground