by Natalie Marino

Your plain pine box,

under an indigo sky

without one star,

and I do not know

where to go next.


Had you told me

I could look for you

in the trees,


I would listen to the

open mouths of leaves


and their wind song stories

of tomorrow’s rainbow,


how even in darkening

corners of daylight hope hides

inside the scarlet sunset,


how always again

the sun joins the clear blue

water and seagulls dance

without music,


that they let love search

for gold in sand,

for color in black

and white photographs.

Natalie Marino is a poet, physician, and mother. Her work appears in Barren Magazine, Capsule Stories, Dust Poetry Magazine, Leon Literary Review, Literary Mama, Moria Online, Re-side, and elsewhere. She also reads poetry submissions for Bracken Magazine. She lives in California.

%d bloggers like this: