Winter Boxes by James Diaz


she tosses the last remnants of what could have been starlight through a leak in the roof
tears out names from cereal boxes
a moon that calls out to her
now and again
from the field
where her children have all gone
on to better things
tonight she is stirring tea
having visions of her Jonathan
her moose hill days
the wild hem of white
on Tennessee rain tins
the dance hall
and her daddy
calling out her name
the billow of smoke
the coming and the going
and the laughter
oh god, the laughter
blue tail night thinning like her hair
and this little prayer that she buries with her tiny hands
lost in the span of wind
against the house
the dark leaning in
a dreaming
so steady, so still
it is its own witness
this moment
this night.


©2018 James Diaz


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Bio: James Diaz is the author of This Someone I Call Stranger (2018) Indolent Books. In 2016 he founded the online literary arts and music journal Anti-Heroin Chic to provide a platform for often unheard voices, including those struggling with addiction, mental illness and Prison/confinement. His work has appeared in Occulum, Bone & Ink Press, Moonchild Magazine, Memoir Mix-Tapes and Drunk Monkeys. He resides in upstate New York, in between balanced rocks and horse farms. He has never believed in anything as strongly as he does the power of poetry to help heal a shattered life.

You can find James’s pages on FaceBook and Twitter.


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