Victoria Hunter Poems

The less I speak
when I am pushed to fall skinless
into the brooding sunbeam
My bright voice falls spiritless
...

When the rain is brooding
the leaves hang low and heavy.

We take the path we see, is most clear
...

Maria was close to death,
when she met Tanzler
the two of them was inseparable,
the heart and the mind
...

I look past the people
who look in our bus window.
I look beyond the bus driver,
to the small red speck of light
...

Candy-stripe wallpaper
bloody red carpet
My cat put one paw in
and backed out
...

You sat them on an icy oak table-
the package of my father's ashes-
like an old-fashioned box cake.
...

I tasted leaves
the season of aged skin
Below me was the ground
gray in pieces
...

Didn't I love youfrom one end to another
exactly howyou were created
so wild and wantingall the attentionall the time
...

is for my identity to be returned,
for it to be tossed out a window
and for it to land, into my warm lap,
so he can be driven, away and away,
...

There's a path I always take
down to the river
where the woods are dressed down
open
...