by Linda Ravenswood
To live at the scene of an accident
To walk by a vast park where I played as a child
and be oblivious to play.
To drive by heavy iron gates
where my hand
was crushed in imperial hinges
and not be jolted.
To go on living
by the scene of a crime.
To bake bread there,
cut the grass,
hang out laundry.
To have counted days
since a catastrophic event
only to be caught in the breezeway
holding fresh apples, realizing
it’s Spring. To wander
to the other side of grief, vacantly.
To fidget, to be mild.
To sigh in the silence of moderation.
To forgo fanfare or cataclysmic surges. Even briefly.
To dwell. To be simple
in rain. On the way home.
Linda Ravenswood de Montano, Ph.D. abd (she/her/hers) is a poet and performance artist from Los Angeles. Her recent collections include the anthology TLACUILX (Indigenous & Chicana voices through pandemic, Hinchas Press, 2021, editor) and Cantadora — Letters from California (Eyewear London/Black Spring Press Group, 2022). She has chapbooks from Mouthfeel Press, El Paso, 2012, and Pedestrian Press, 2021. Find her at theLosAngelespress.com
Lauralee Sikorski‘s art has appeared in numerous publications in the U.S. and Europe. Originally from New England, she now calls the shores of Lake Michigan home. A true multi-media artist creating murals, sculptures, and paintings and showing them across the United States.