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Angie Crea O'Neal

Poetry

Gardensong

Hosea 2:7 “What does it matter how many lovers you have if none of them gives you the universe?” – Jacque Lacan “ut operaretur eum” – Voltaire’s Candide Desire is taking a picture of the moon. The trip to faraway that made you miss your bed, an apple gone soft. The way summer fades the new drapes pooling by the window-pane. How pain feels so much like suspense. And I, thumbing my past like an old brochure, a native who…
Angie Crea O'Neal
April 30, 2018
Poetry

Hosea, Single

Hosea 2:15 In January your keys keep the time, plink like antlers discarded in the foyer. House sealed tight as a covenant. I hold our truth with baby-fisted certainty, days stacked neatly as closed books on a calendar. Hours like the travel of the front porch rocker. In March, the month for war, you leave me. Reverse-alchemy. Gold, like youth, returned to dross. I start to date, trace the river after a hard rain mud-soak wash churning towards some lighted…
Angie Crea O'Neal
April 30, 2018