Thursday, April 24, 2014


Dawn Potter

So wild it was when we first settled here.
Spruce roots invaded the cellar like thieves.
Skunks bred on the doorstep, cluster flies jeered.
Ice-melt dripped shingles and screws from the eaves.
We slept by the stove, we ate meals with our hands.
At dusk we heard gunshots, and wind and guitars.
We imagined a house with a faucet that ran
From a well that held water. We canvassed the stars.
If love is an island, what map was our hovel?
Dogs howled on the mainland, our cliff washed away.
We hunted for clues with a broken-backed shovel.
We drank all the wine, night dwindled to grey.
When we left, a flat sunrise was threatening snow,
But the frost heaves were deep. We had to drive slow.

[from Same Old Story (CavanKerry Press, 2014)]


jen revved said...

Beautiful music, Dawn. xxxj

Dawn Potter said...

Thank you, Jen.

Ang said...

What a lovely time at the sea!!!
Give me a shout upon your return!

Monica Sharman said...

Thank you for your poetry! Our friend Maureen Doallas pointed us in your direction. We'd like to send you a permissions request for two of your poems. Would you mind letting me know how best to contact you so I can send the request?

Best regards,

Monica Sharman
Editor, Every Day Poems