Member Poem

1. Held

The sky adheres to the horizon,
glued by the pale orange of
early spring, anchored by
trees longing to bud but still
afraid of frost’s catch.
In this way, the world
holds together, hitched to the
past while leaning toward
an incoherent future,
the line balancing the rising
sun our one certain thing

2. Both -And

I live in fear of ice,
those slippery sheets
on sidewalk and road,
sometimes visible,
often not.
And yet, I love crystals
in the trees, catching
light, forming their fractalled
selves, always fragile,
always unique.
So we fear and love the same things.
So we find our claws and wings.