Tomatoes on Windowsill
–
Fullness to fullness
like beads on a string
not perfect roundness
not copies, each
its own being, a slightly
flattened curve, a bulge
subtle differences in color
coral, brick, somewhere
on the orange to red scale
every day deepening
maybe like us
if we could hold still
long enough in the sheen
of morning light.
–
–
Garage
You look out the back window
at the garage sheathed
in snow, the roofline gleaming
against the indigo skyline.
The sag has returned—if it ever left—
the old wood bowing to the weight
of snow and moonlight on this last night
of the year, all the jockeying up,
the reinforced beams, the additional
crosshatches of the previous summer
useless under the weight
of so much beauty.
–
–
–
Carol Tyx teaches writing and American literature at Mt. Mercy University in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Her work has most recently been published in RHINO, Poetry East, Water-Stone Review, Iowa City’s Poetry in Public, and Rising to the Rim, published by Brick Road Poetry Press. On any given day you might find her cooking with kale, contra dancing, or standing on her head.
Sassafras Literary Magazine 