Patti Masterman Poems

Little things can die in snow
Almost undiscovered,
Sometimes completely covered.
...

Thought storms cross my mind
Blackness on the horizon
And now you're out of time
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Coming and going, ninja-style
Turn sideways to disappear
(Maybe they never saw a thing?)
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Just that one line was all they recounted, that she said-
Running into her in the busy shopping area of the city,
Now an older, used-up part; but back then still a well known hub.
Who knew who you might run into there?
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How does one begin to write a poem?
First one condenses an entire life down into just one line-
Clouds, dandelions, adoration, revenge; don't hold anything back.
The peaceful smile of death and the rancorous
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in between the ribs of your multiforme soul
a bargain was struck, and then
the veiled stars spoke, amid the waters of life
sun and moon grew closer together afterward, and distance vanished
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In spoken signs of living words
We squandered labyrinthine highways
Living in longing, a listless endeavor
Little did we know was vested in time
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There's a cytokine storm
When I'm near you;
The pressure's rising,
The plasma's a-stew,
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Every woman surely dies
And leaves behind a purse;
And though it’s not as elegant,
As any streetside hearse,
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I wonder if people reflect as they die,
How they have lived the wealthiest of lives;
For beneath their feet, lay the whole of the Earth-
And above their heads, the bottomless sky.
...