by Anne Graue
there are thistles for breakfast
there are rhododendron buds out the window
there are black-capped chickadees announcing
the morning, shrill and loud
there are wheat pennies in a jar
green, light fuchsia
black & white
dull copper
there is so much to get done
that will probably never get done
futility reigns
hovers over everything
castrates my lust for transformation
blindfolds me from possibilities
futility and my body are the same now
there are beautiful people with haloes
there are orchids blooming
there are cardinals looking for mates
there is a crow couple in synchronicity
flying in tandem, soaring over trees,
recognizing faces, maybe mine
Anne Graue is the author of Full and Plum-Colored Velvet (Woodley Press, 2020) and Fig Tree in Winter (Dancing Girl Press, 2017). Her poetry has appeared in Sundress Publications Best Dressed Blog, Verse Daily, Poet Lore, SWWIM Every Day, Spoon River Poetry Review, Gargoyle, Unbroken Journal, River Heron Review, FERAL, and Action, Spectacle, among others. Her reviews have been published in The Kenyon Review, The Rupture, Green Mountains Review, and The Rumpus. She is a poetry co-editor for The Westchester Review.
January House Literary Journal 
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