Christine Austin Cole Poems

She tumbled from the sky that night
White washed and too familiar
Holding cotton candy dreams
In her hand
...

I left a poem on the side of the highway last night.

With every exhale, words, like litter, escaped me
To flee-float out and about and along,
...

To a claustrophobic, the confessional
was penance enough, she thought -
an upended coffin filled with rotting sins
and little more.
...

I may be Art
in the way that he was, she was
in the way that you,
most certainly, are –
...

…. somewhere, he is standing with a brush in
one hand and another trapped between his teeth,
oblivious to the drops of paint that have fallen on his
collar, on the floor beside him, on the top of his
...

“To be honest, ” she said as if
lying would be nothing new,
“I seriously thought about
not telling you.”
...

[We won’t survive this as we began it…]

We’ll be dust or diamonds,
remnants of the selves we were;
...

The dirt embedded beneath my fingernails -
so perfectly, so fully now,
[I could grow things there
but for the lack of sunlight]–
...

“…Pessoaic, ” he said
and my heart fluttered.

~
...

Dare I breathe even?
Would you hear, perhaps
Even the quietest of inhales
And exhales, were I to do so?
...