One Poem by Charlie Brice

On our 45th

For Judy

Her face unfurls across every weed
and grass blade, every crevice along
the dusty roadway. Her shadow

spreads over brick and stone. Her light
dapples hemlock, aspen, and birch.
Every gutter-puddle holds the dark

riddle of her eyes. Day lilies, crimson
and yearning, imitate her passionate pallor;
grey and cloudless skies reflect her moods.

The night’s heavenly miracle-gleam merely a
demure replica of her entrance into a room. Her
spirit humbles comets, makes supernovas blush,

glides atop Goshawk thermals, rests in winged
repose. Her mind’s a chickadee’s flight path—
sweet skitter of effortless complexity.

There’s not a crack in a wall that doesn’t
scream her name. What world would
exist without her lambent gaze?


Charlie Brice is the author of Flashcuts Out of Chaos (2016), Mnemosyne’s Hand (2018), and An Accident of Blood (2019), all from WordTech Editions. His poetry has been nominated for the Best of Net anthology and twice for a Pushcart Prize and has appeared in The Atlanta Review, The Main Street Rag, Chiron Review, Permafrost, I-70 Review, The Paterson Literary Review, and elsewhere.

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