Celine Socrates Poems

We come to the conclusion
that falling stars bear
the weight
of a child’s fingers groping for
...

Silence is how one addresses the need for depth; when poverty for words becomes a mere exercise of virtue, a rite of passage to scars. Small wounds clot with time, until all that is left is the stiff coating that shreds off at the slightest movement.

Forgetting is so easy, once scars have ceased to be.
...

The bronze knob fits
inside my fist like
handshake.
...

We are pressed
between
the Before and the After,
...

She thinks of fractures;
a series of dawns
outside planks,
their warmth captured in
...

When you reach the peak of the summit
and find for yourself a seat
in the rough slope of a large rock
jutting out of the earth,
...

(After Eliot)

We have gone, you and I
When the dark embraced the night
...

I lost you to the stars
that distant night along
the damp pavement,
after the rain
...

Always, you are to be haunted
by the aftertaste leaves
shriveling into their veins,
birds faltering across the atmosphere
...