my untitled 10 26 2016




she needs silver needle rain
upon her shiver skin
to startle her away from
frequency of hand sewn quilts
and layered down fill pillows

and she craves stove brewed Arabica
in a thick ceramic;  her narrow fingers
tight embrace the radiating heat;
she breathes its draught of steam mist
and thinks the pitch of darkness

and grows turnip, carrot, parsnip
earthy things to blacken in a skillet
and tumble to a pewter plate; she
jars pickles…soaks beets in vinegar
and salt and bitter herbs

she needs the prick of cat claws
upon her thighs and knees…
and disdains the warm wet slop
of dog lick on her hands

would choose a harpsichord than harp
and do away with birth day…and
lines on maps…and forced smiles; she
lives beside the sea for its tempestuous


Bonnie Marshall

Artwork by Andrew Wyeth
“Corner of the Woods” 1954


breakbeat bluegrass tremble moo no


breakbeat is arrhythmia…
as flushed covey quail
on tiny speed blurred feet
mottled… plump beneath
vaguely Egyptian topknots;
they tremble in their dash

is silver Dobro hover slip
in a make up bluegrass band
at Wednesday music church

is their backcountry spillsplash
fiddle…lemon yellow flash
banjo… copper blood orange bright
bass…tobacco midnight blue

breakbeat…abrupt heart murmur
we’re this and now we’re that
out in…in out of God
out in…in out of love
out in…in out of innocence


Bonnie Marshall

Artwork by Carol Nelson