Lisa Ashley
Night Sky
When I was young and our son was small you painted the heavens on his bedroom ceiling in fluorescent paint so the stars would shine all night and now when I am old and filled with fierce pain you clean the house and hang the laundry, wash the dishes every night and you say that’s fair since I cook our dinner and this love you hold for me is a boundless miracle like the night sky I cannot do without. |
Evanescent
What rides on a snowflake dust particles or pollen adrift riding a crystal drop steady slow nowhere in particular to go snow angel tick tick tick in the hush flakes touch down fugitive they fall. |
Lisa Ashley (she/her), is a 2021 Pushcart Prize nominee. She descends from survivors of the Armenian Genocide and has listened to, and supported incarcerated youth for 8 years as a chaplain. Her poems have appeared in Amsterdam Quarterly,The Healing Muse, Thimble, Blue Heron Review, Last Leaves, Snapdragon, Last Stanza Poetry Journal, and others. She writes in her log home on Bainbridge Island, WA, the traditional lands of the Suquamish people, and navigates her garden with physical limitations in a constant state of awe. Lisa is currently working on her first manuscript.