Strange Country (Day 385)

Wide 

strange country 

under pale empty skies   

the women, walking, stand 

straight (no stoop-shouldered, 

martyred shuffling, no slouchers 

or complainers) walking, wonder 

why and whether they will ever 

learn when their parents die,

if they will ever know their 

nieces and nephews 

names.  

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Note: I chose not to include a photo with today’s poem, in the interest of inclusivity. Everywhere, throughout time, women have gotten a bum deal. We need to stand together. 

In All the World (Day 289)

Not a care 

  exists 

    in all 

    the world

for us

   our dreams 

   our lies  our loves

   our losses

beyond our own

sun  

   moon  

      distant 

   spiraling 

galaxies 

     none will 

pause 

for a single 

moment  consider 

or disregard 

our empires of 

self/importance 

we can 

rest peacefully

in this 

knowledge  take 

solace  and 

breathe awhile. 

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Earth and her moon from Saturn’s rings 

NASA/JPL-Caltech/Space Science Institute

Moderate Cruelty (Day 280)

Tepid, aglow with the cuprous 

sweat of self-loathing, you 

resort to moderate cruelty 

again and again

that was always your way

of containing the steady trickle

of commentary—expert at everything

you do—that accrues 

in the pit of your stomach

day by day and no matter where

you look you are insensate 

to the shards of beauty 

that slice and snag your skin

with every blundering step you take

unable to understand that there 

are miles of possibility

at your feet

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: White House dot gov

Against a Buttery Sky (Day 276)

Above the orchard, tall 

trees against a buttery

sky, sating my spirit’s

deep hunger, portending 

umber flanks 

of gourd-round hills,

a pasture dotted 

Heaven, northern dusk 

fog-sheltered need, 

won as we cried for more, 

but by dawn, still and

you should see 

where, small and fragile, 

it lives on in me.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: racorvese