Judith Sanders: Feeding the Horses at Crystal Spring Farm
Out past the empty barn,
twin Percherons, tall as steeples,
canter across their meadow
to greet my small son and me.
Judith Sanders: Cherry Tree Elegy
A freak tornado had snapped its aged limbs,
one angled like a lap where our son had snuggled,
sheltered by green in summer, copper in fall.
Judith Sanders: The Rubber Woman
I have a thousand uses:
crash dummy, sex toy, punching bag, life raft.
Judith Sanders: First Lesson
…assess this particular pebble’s
cool weight in your palm,
the diameter of its smoothness,
the course it traveled over the seabed
Judith Sanders: A Mourner’s Kaddish
We must have forgotten thee,
o Jerusalem,
because our tongues cleave
to the roofs of our mouths
and our right hands
have lost their cunning.
Judith Sanders: Autumn Walk at Beechwood Farms
You said, Name the world.
So I said, I call this a spangle tree.
How about, you said, a rose-hued spangle tree.
That’s beautiful, I said.
Let’s name the world together.
Judith Sanders: Late to Meet You at the Indian Restaurant
So I drove, and listened to the news, about
the demise of democracy and collapse of civilization
head-beams probing the dark like outstretched hands.
Judith Sanders: The Farewell
“Picture a staircase,”
the hypnotist said.
“At the top, a door
will open
onto a landscape.”
Vox Populi 