Gate
Oh merciful
gate, break
these legs
for me
so I don’t
have to
walk home.
Procession
Blowing
through red
lights on
our way
to the graveyard—
death
stops for no one.
Daisy
Pluck a ray
from the eye
of day; each petal
is a flower—
tossed
away.
Old Timer
Whittling corn
flowers from water
maple twigs
in samara rain.
Widow
Wandering
fence lines
limp
as a morning
glory’s spent
petals.
Randi Ward is a writer, translator, lyricist, and photographer from West Virginia. She earned her MA in Cultural Studies from the University of the Faroe Islands and is a recipient of the American-Scandinavian Foundation's Nadia Christensen Prize. Ward is a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee whose work has appeared in the Anthology of Appalachian Writers, Asymptote, Beloit Poetry Journal, Cimarron Review, The Cortland Review, Thrush Poetry Journal, Vencil: Anthology of Contemporary Faroese Literature, World Literature Today, and other publications. For more information, visit: www.randiward.com/about
