Tara Teeling Poems

Perhaps the cure for this
is a pair of comfortable shoes,
or a plate of greens tossed with lemon.
It could be in a lucky number,
...

Just as the last breath one draws,
envies the first which was taken,
there is the time in between
which bridges the two,
...

An open closet presents a conundrum.

There are the usual suspects:
dresses that have never been worn,
...

All the dead-fingered trees make
an eleventh hour grab at salvation,
shamed by their coarse nakedness,
while the evergreens stand fat and proud,
...

By her light, I shine and shimmer.
Her soft fingers, sift through the dark.
A golden halo envelops her.
I marvel at how many of us have passed in her life.
...

Once, I had the upper hand.
It was clean and white,
and I held it up high
because that was where
...

You inspire me, little muse.

With a girlish voice that
delivers a woman’s words,
...

Fast go, fast show,
with a motor-horse hum
and a savage cat roar,
the world is a
...

Some light madness is born
in the cool flutter of waking April,
with a chemical shift
spread by its green-fingered touch.
...

Old man on the blistered bench,
who did you used to be?
What music filled the night when
you first latched a heart and kept it?
...