Question

May Swenson

1913 –

1989

Body my house
my horse my hound
what will I do 
when you are fallen

Where will I sleep
How will I ride
What will I hunt

Where can I go
without my mount
all eager and quick
How will I know
in thicket ahead
is danger or treasure
when Body my good
bright dog is dead

How will it be
to lie in the sky
without roof or door
and wind for an eye

With cloud for shift
how will I hide?

Four-Word Lines

Your eyes are just
like bees, and I
feel like a flower.
Their brown power makes
a breeze go over
my skin. When your
lashes ride down and
rise like brown bees’
legs, your pronged gaze
makes my eyes gauze.
I wish we were
in some shade and
no swarm of other
eyes to know that
I’m a flower breathing
bare, laid open to
your bees’ warm stare.
I’d let you wade
in me and seize
with your eager brown
bees’ power a sweet
glistening at my core.

May Swenson

2016

Bleeding

Stop bleeding          said the knife.
I would if I          could said the cut.
Stop bleeding          you make me messy with this blood.
I’m sorry          said the cut.
Stop or          I will sink in farther said the knife.
Don’t          said the cut.
The          knife did not say it couldn’t help it but
it          sank in farther.
If          only you didn’t bleed said the knife I wouldn’t
have         to do this.
I know          said the cut I bleed too easily I hate

May Swenson

2016

Strawberrying

My hands are murder-red. Many a plump head
drops on the heap in the basket. Or, ripe
to bursting, they might be hearts, matching
the blackbird’s wing-fleck. Gripped to a reed
he shrieks his ko-ka-ree in the next field.
He’s left his peck in some juicy cheeks, when
at first blush and mostly white, they showed
streaks of sweetness to the marauder.

May Swenson

2016

Poems

Question

More by this poet

Four-Word Lines

Bleeding

Strawberrying

Poems

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Question

More by this poet

Four-Word Lines

Bleeding

Strawberrying

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