Grounded & What I Carry – Carolyn Adams


I remove my shoes, lean back

to watch the clouds converging.

I miss cruising up there

through vapor layers.

I miss the sun, in blazes

under a plane wing.

Earthbound, I satisfy

my distance hungers

tracing a finch’s quick urges

in the apple tree.

The althea drops another spent blossom.

A dandelion seed drifts

the length of the soft green lawn

What I Carry

Night falls softly here.

A breeze stirs the air.

Roses bleed hunger

into paper on a table.

I reach absently

for a flower’s sweet desire.

Again, I am asked my decision:

a rending good-bye,

or this passive ambivalence.

If I stay, your relief might be enough

for both of us.

But I may wake tomorrow,

the honey of roses still on my fingertips,

wondering what perpetual motion

really feels like.

Here and now, a chorus of regret

stains this humming status quo.

I cannot fulfill

what you envision,

but I will not leave just to harm you.

Whether I stay,

or whether I go,

I will own what I carry.

Carolyn Adams’ poetry and art have appeared in Steam Ticket, Aji Magazine, Topology, Change Seven Magazine, and Beatnik Cowboy, among others. She is the author of four chapbooks, and has been nominated for a Pushcart prize, as well as for Best of the Net. She is currently a staff editor for Mojave River Review, and a poetry editor for VoiceCatcher.