Where Air Grows

I carefully uproot prickly thistle,
bedstraw, anonymous weeds from
a bed of leggy iris, lavender and yellow

opening their world to space between
where air grows, where thoughts
become things, ideas, sweat.
Above nodding blossoms, white cotton
café curtains frame another space.
In there, day begins, a plumped pillow

willing to support heavy thoughts
that refract in lead crystal,
small rainbows, tiny prisms

that, unchecked, become tiny prisons.
The key, beside the pillow now
lumpy as pancake batter, is golden.

about the author
Rita Coleman graduated from Wright State University with a B.A. and an M.A. in English Literature, concentrating in Creative Writing. She has written one volume of poetry, Mystic Connections, and has written award-winning poems that have appeared in numerous venues. Rita reads her poems on Conrad’s Corner at WYSO-FM 91.3 FM.