Ellen Doré Watson

I’m pressed for time, so here’s just a taste of Ellen’s newest book of poems, This Sharpening:

House, the Verb

The body houses what the heart won’t let loose

Loosening gives way to love

Oh birds happy in their feathers

Something sometimes happens

The heart’s lurch, stop-and-go traffic

A crash course in tighten

That the house of us was an assumption!

Later houses what we never imagine

The way you flew from me

Wounded of wing, dusting chicken

What the I housed in belief

Unhoused, bereft of body