|Cherryl E. Garner||
The practical loss
Abelard and Heloise, First Introduction
We are then to be always Eve, we wayward women.
Lasciviously, according to his own Latin, Abelard could beat
Her medieval back, strong bones left stripped despite
Some Fridays, I scream, out, real, loud
so slow to decompress, but latch
a rolling mess, all movie blood
Its like some things just stick to me,
spectacular, in spades. I dream
Synapses snap, pop up, then crack.
my missing moon, my Saturn rings,
Washing Hair While Grieving
After viewing horseshoe sprays,
one must wash ones hair, just so.
Imagine a gorgons head, plugged in
Where is the running water?
Soap cant skin or scrape away one cell
While were mining infinites proposed by string theories;
Micromites and matter hurled from line-hung, beaten rugs,
|Cherryl E. Garner manages a small law office in South Carolina but has her roots in Alabama. Her poetry is often informed by her life in the South but focuses more broadly on life in general, how it can bruise and still help to bloom those who ask much from it. Although she has only begun writing again in earnest over the past few years, Cherryl's poetry has been published in print in Riffing on Strings, The Petigru Review, Tipton Poetry Journal, and Interrobang!?, and online in Rose & Thorn, Trillium Literary Journal, The Artistry of Life, damselflypress and Hanging Moss Journal, and has had mention in IBPC.|