Spring 2019 Poetry Contest Winner: Louisa Muniz
Louisa Muniz is a reading/writing tutor. She lives in Sayreville, N.J. with her husband & son. She has a Master’s degree in Curriculum and Instruction from Kean University. Her work has been published in Tinderbox Journal, Rose Red Review, Words Dance, Snapdragon Journal, Poetry Quarterly, Menacing Hedge (nominated for Best of the Net), The Raven’s Perch & TL;DR Women’s Anthology. She has work forthcoming in PANK Magazine.
I Ask God To Turn Up The Volume
Upon Hearing the News of Pittsburgh
God, why have you grown so silent?
In prayer I bloodlet sadness
splintered thin on wooden floors.
Time stands still. Demons root
in the marrow of living.
To blow-soften daily news I wear
rose-colored glasses & cordless ear plugs.
Help me understand. Lift me
from darkness to alpenglow.
Turn up the volume. Say
what you have to say. The quiet nails
my throat. Even the trees are growing ears
in the netted veins of their leaves.
Daily, I sweeten bread in blessings
& on good days I still find you
in cherry blossoms a bolt
of riotous bloom
swelling apricot skies & plaiting
patterns in sunlit branches
When they say,
It’s a terrible day for this country,
Don’t you think we love hard enough?
Stone Turned Sand
I kiss the orchid petals
on the kitchen counter.
Whisper a secret into the plant.
I kiss a picture of my sons.
My framed world.
I once carried a fetus
for ten weeks four days two hours.
Prayed for a girl.
I carried her: fabergé egg
of guilloché enamel.
Body dawning song.
I touch the lip of the orchid,
a landing platform for insects,
attracted to the curved shape.
Look how the light glints
through the drapes,
ornaments the tiled floor.
I am a quiet plea of honey bee.
Each weight-bearing wing
carrying stone turned sand.