Age Thirty-Four

Storm clouds pocket
over cherry blossom stars
falling atop the dark pond.
Wind in the cattails.

Under full moon tide,
sea urchins crowd the long beach,
shielded by green spines.
Heart’s teahouse, open
husk, leaf, earth, sky, wide, wide door,
keeping all secrets and none.
If I could conjure
love from peonies and quartz,
lemon’s clean, bright coat.

Journey hurts whether
we sing, or hold it like thorn
in our stubborn beak.

Beauty is sunset fox,
butterfly bush swallowtail,
city’s pond beaver.
Life is a raccoon,
chin raised, walking under moon,
her strong confidence.

Some days are ancient
as glass bottles left in earth,
turned incandescent.
I wish moon would hurry,
my heart needs beauty tonight
lonely as a cat
who looks to mouse for salvation.

Licking envelope
I seal fate full of gemstones,
gold leaf promised over fear.

Paula Kaufman hails from West Virginia and writes poems from Washington, DC where she is a painter, poet and speechwriter. Her first book is titled Asking the Stars Advice (2018) and her work has appeared in Rough Beast, Heartwood Literary Review, Rusted Radishes and other literary journals. She would spend all day outdoors if possible.