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1.4k · Dec 2021
I Found God
Caroline Shank Dec 2021
I Found God

I found God in a Baptist Church
in Milwaukee.
Faith,  small hands and
scratched bibles.

Warm cookies.

The delicate and the children.
Their names in coded
words on the skin under

my arms. .

Dedicate: the
day to the great E. Perience.

There is a new Age

I smoke a cigarette.

God arrived in fancy clothes.

Women dressed, frown.
Still voices in the


Witness the Beloved
baptism of perfumed

I smoked for them all.
My fee for being previously


Caroline Shank
1.3k · Feb 4
The Empty Bed
There are things
I did not do.

I did not  touch

died. Without
a sound.

Your soft brown eyes pierced me.
I saw you go in the quiet
way you did everything.
I knew you were gone
but not before I
knew sadly, silently
could not hold
you in a final


Closeness had run out
so long ago,

though we loved until the end,

bereft of speech,
as we we were bereft of

I bowed to your
blank stare.

I would have died for
you if I could have.  

but I could not
save you from
this destiny

with the Father




Caroline Shank
1.3k · Oct 2021
If You Kiss Me
Caroline Shank Oct 2021
If you kiss me now our eyes
will close and we will
push against each other
like fruit vying for the light,

In the nightpain of loving
our eyes will slowly open
and your face will wilt
until its cheeks and crevices
dim under the sad symmetry of
our public lives.

If you kiss me now I will forget
the grown repair of skirt alone
in the loud sound of memory
as it slips ever so gently away.

Caroline Shank
1.1k · Jul 2021
When I Was a Young Girl
Caroline Shank Jul 2021
When I was a young girl I wondered
If I would find you.  I looked in the grass,
on the horizon, where the land woke
up each day.  I dreamed of your darkness,
of your hands sculpted by David, your

I was younger then than I wish I had
been.  I saw your curls in the glass
of my future, your amber eyes stolen
from the Baltic. You guarded my time
telling me that of course I was happy
once but my mother took me
away.  She watched me for you on every corner of Chicago. Looked for your blue
eyes in the stranger she finally

But he wasn't you and the penalty
was high.  My youth was her batter
which mixed with gin and
codeine she drank daily.

I found you in a hallway walking
toward me.  It was on a holiday
granted to me once.  I knew you
before the world was made.  The
glimpse of your silent betrayal
left me envying younger women
Before.  I knew you
In the hours of my life at last,

When I was a young woman you
found me. I was braille, you were
soft.  You left me in the tears
of another waif the dust blew in.

Caroline Shank
1.1k · Sep 2020
Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep
Caroline Shank Sep 2020
I am the next wind
which crosses your neck.
The raindrop on your cheek.
When you wake up
tomorrow I will be the
crease on your face, the
tangle of your blanket.

Know this then, I will
never leave you.  The
scent of me lines your

So now I lay me down
to sleep. I pray my soul is
yours to keep

Alt ending

So now I lay me down
to sleep.  I know your soul
is mine to keep.


Caroline Shank
1.0k · Jun 2022
I Can't Get To You
Caroline Shank Jun 2022
I cannot get to you.  You
are like Jerusalem, a
misguided city. Your name is exposed
to the sun while i call to you in the
silence of the volcanic pre-dawn.
You have slides of affectation.
A pilgrim might mistake
you for the safety of a handhold
hammered in the sand.

travelers knew the peril of
your affection.

You don't  reply. So cold the
monument, so silent
the wall of your response.

This is all I know
and so do you that the
messages of the world fall
like the snow on the ground
white with shadows. Mute
replicas of shared emotion.

Drink to us the sour
vinegar of the sponge.

Caroline Shank
June 16, 2022
1.0k · Jan 21
I could be dead by tomorrow,
wrapped in the comfort of
silence. Spread out on the
floor of yesterday.  I loved
you so many years ago there
is a calm scrape on the days

I turn myself in for being
ridiculous.  " Do I dare to
eat a peach? ". I cross the
sandpaths of memory and
kick the castles yesterday
left.  No tomorrow for us.

I, like Prufrock, dizzingly
look for the summer night,
walk unsteady in my old
age lest I die to finally

and forget.

Caroline Shank
993 · Mar 2020
The Movements of My Life
Caroline Shank Mar 2020
The movements
and tides of my visceral
life endure as I am forced

Prone to the changes
of daylight's only task,
I open to the sun as a turtle
opens to the tidepool.

The future is a wash as
it morphs from my bellied
stature. The past is
a life splayed by the nights
of your flesh. I roll with the
memory of
your voice.  

I linger on your

Caroline Shank
990 · Apr 2021
I Believe in You
Caroline Shank Apr 2021
This long life has been
informed by love.  We shared
each other Oh! for so
short a time.

Like fruit we hung onto
the sweet drops of new
nectar's night.
We peeled each other
to the pink skin of sighs.

It was a delicate scent
when blown into the
stars quiet Space.  We
sped into the walls of
destiny and crashed
in the pulp of sorrow.

But I miss you in this
orchard of dessicated

I am rawed by the thought
of you.

Caroline Shank
890 · Dec 2021
There was A Man
Caroline Shank Dec 2021
There was a man come wandering
by with silver heels and loudly.
It was a Sunday and he asked me
to dance.  We tangoed through
close and warm.

Then it was a Wednesday warm
to touch you and I did.
You ran in the rain like a cat.
I called but the dull thud of
my tears fell only alone.

There love stretched
taut to crumble. And the heat
of my life felt the scald and
stars were unseen..

Light hid in drains and
you were in the rain gone.
I see you wet and reach
toward me. Dreams don't

die and I wrap the night
In paper sliced so thin

you can see thru my veins
where I have travelled

And alone.

Caroline Shank
882 · Feb 2021
Bitter Change
Caroline Shank Feb 2021
I have a head full of bitter
change.  Shake me gently
or it will fall out.  Do you
like me enough to tally
the aged money?

You are a stream where
people go to pray.  The
Ganges of the soul.  Weary
of the candles floating on
the prayers of lesser sinners
you ask only for confession.

You send the lighted candles
downstream.  Forgiveness
is not for the weak, and
shy of life's detritus

you weary of all things that
I leave on the edge of
sorrow.  Oh! River of my
Old age why do you

need me?

Caroline Shank
794 · Jan 2022
Your Moods
Caroline Shank Jan 2022
Your moods are to me as is Mars
in ununderstanding.
You call and I am ready.
You bring the day's strata
of news.  There are layers
to us.  I do the moods as
an animal does clover in
a field unexpected.

I remain here
Evergreen and u

I remain…

Caroline Shank
767 · Jul 2022
Caroline Shank Jul 2022
I write in runes.  I mean to
leap the alphabet.  The orbital
spin of time and me dizzy and all. .

I will write you tomorrow,
shake the mica off my
thoughts.  You will not
walk with me among the
glacial shores of thinking.

I will return a fossil of
millions of years,
along the edges
of meaning.  I am not
unfamiliar with your pace
along the beach where i
lie so still.  It's why I will
write tomorrow when my
heart has ******

in the sun.  

I don't see you
coming anymore to the sandhills of
Poems.  It was always
difficult to reach you through
the tangle of my sclerotic


Tomorrow I will be a fragment of
loving you.  I will hold the
thought until it fossil
freezes and I will lie on the
Beach of Remembering,
washed by eons of

poetry.  I will write you
but all you will hear are the

of forgetting.

Caroline Shank
732 · Nov 2022
I Will Drink Lonliness
Caroline Shank Nov 2022
I will drink loneliness in my
coffee. The sweet is turned to
sorrow, the cream is the stir
of tears.  

I will not last this.
The table was set when you
strode into darkness.

I will pin loneliness on the board.
The same letters unwrite.

Half a century is not enough
to unbelieve.  The scattered
seconded invitation is
laid green and turbulent.

I leave loneliness a song
to the unbeliever.

You fold my intention like
a glove broken in.

Winter is always the last
cry in the dark sound
under the stairs.

I leave the sounds of the
wheel under my
shoes, in Winter unsounds
tears that dry in eyes
of the unbeliever,

you, walk like steel cleats
over my poems.

Caroline Shank
681 · Aug 2021
The Dream
Caroline Shank Aug 2021
That was a different dream, not the one last night where you couldn't
get the door unlocked.  The other
dream was when we walked east
on Capitol Dr. toward the water.

We explored the caves,
the hidden grottos of Lake
Michigan.  We walked so far with
torn experience and
unforgiven memories.  The sky
dimmed in the late afternoon.
We tried to reach each other
in the fading red moments before

Last night you couldn't get to me.
The locks were made up of the
Crucifixion and a nun kneeled
before me.  You were frocked
out in gray and threw kisses.

We woke in the same bed where
you vanished quietly to your
whispers of regret.
I remain unseen and unloved.
A torrent of feeling sprang from my
soft and sorry, lonely gray bed.

Caroline Shank
681 · Sep 2022
Journal Entry
Caroline Shank Sep 2022
I'm looking for my husband.  He has
disappeared into some place inside
his mind, like a sea creature slides
into a coral bed.

Quick now, here he is for a moment
or an hour.  Like a Robin bobs in
the yard, he is beautiful in his song
before he vanishes into the sky,
flying above or around me.

Are his pieces forever gone? Will
I find a kiss behind my chair meant
for me alone? Will my sorrow erase
the years of love?

I will be brave today.  Tomorrow
I will be the coral he needs. A small
animal in a very large and
strange ocean. .

Caroline Shank
677 · Oct 2020
Can Anyone Help Me?
Caroline Shank Oct 2020
Can anyone help me? Is
there a minute particle of
a sympathetic soul in the
residue of a life loudly

I don't really have a
syllable of rain to tell
of the need of personal

Someone run to me with
an outstretched hand
that I may not flail
in the cold.

God knows of my need
and He cries at your

Go away from me, I will
struggle to keep from
showing you my unrequited

I am called The City of
New Orleans.

Caroline Shank
675 · Oct 2021
If Anyone Asks
Caroline Shank Oct 2021
If anyone asks you I am old
and out of shape.  My legs
curl under me when I stand.
There is a whoosh in my ear
from the fall the other night.

My face of many colors
goes before me like an
electric light.  

I wobble on shifted
ground.  No longer young
I am a cramp in the leg
of time.  

My children go before me and
I watch and I wait.  They are
middle aged and turn to their
own concerns.  

I remain ununderstood not
that I was, clearly, ever taken
for the woman I was.  

If anyone asks tell them
I understood the song
of madness,

and I wait for
the end
of reason.

Caroline Shank
581 · Sep 2022
Let Us Go
Caroline Shank Sep 2022
Let Us Go

At great risk we go
through certain half deserted
streets.  The lights burn holes
in my contemplations.  The spine
of poetry is fallen and lies
spattered on the ground

Go with me. The vocabulary
inspired by the sea air will
carve runes in the granite.

We travel light. Our skin, like
canvas ingrained with words,

We drop to our knees in
silent supplication.  Sounds
paint where rhyme

There is no tomorrow.  

Caroline Shank
565 · Nov 2019
I Cannot Rival
Caroline Shank Nov 2019

I cannot rival your blue eyes
Or the whirling
winds of your infinite skies.  

Windworn leaves tumble at
your step.  Winter turns to
summer where you are.

Walk to me slowly that I may
savor the trail you leave on
your way to my page.

I write you into time.  I hear
the bells ripple.
I have seen you travel in dreams.  

You leave me always wanting
you more than there is air above
me or ground below.

Stay where I am for now.
Use me with love.
Your song.

Caroline Shank
11.19.1 9
551 · Aug 2021
Will You Be My Valentine
Caroline Shank Aug 2021
Will you be my Valentine?  Next
year of course.  When the red and
white polka dots star out the
night and I am confounded
with your beauty.  

Why haven't I written, you ask?
I have dumped my life's colors
onto pages
and into notebooks for you.
I am a woman of many words.
I describe events in the shells and fossils along the beach we walked when we loved each other.

I am engraved by the events
of your stone hard meanings.
I wrap your adjectives in the
filo dough which lines me and
through which my delicate
remembrances filter.

You are the spoon with which I am measured.  Myself into your coffee and cream, you into my death defying
dare to life.

Caroline Shank
535 · Jul 2022
This I Believe
Caroline Shank Jul 2022
I'm tired of love
The laundry of
I weary of
sadness reiterated

The wombs of
Are omnipresent.
I read your sojouron
into the skin side
of this

No I don't know what
you mean.  The
Rhetoric of the
young, of the aged,
that moan of the years
that stretch, the direction
of arms to hold you,
of Kisses too
of hearts that beat

Send me to the banks
of literature.  The Ganges
where dust quaffs and
Fire burns and there is
only the poetry of tears
for the


Caroline Shank
531 · Aug 2022
Next Spring
Caroline Shank Aug 2022
Next Spring I will move.  The Wisconsin
winds will sweep me from this house
of yours where I no longer belong.

You climbed the lattice of the cold
Winter.  I was your bounty.  Now
I can leave the brown sugar color
of this apartment. There are scrapes
on white walls from your wheelchair.

The family will not care and for that,
I will not ask.  

I am through writing thank you notes
and receiving the few callers who
patted me for your loss.

Spring is too far away for intimate
details.  The shaking tree limbs
will be quiet and the annual
equinox will welcome new growth
and knitted sorrows.

We were an uninvolved lot,
the children and you and I.  

So I will write again
on my calendar.  No one will ever
remember that it was I who took
your hand,

your heart,

your suffering

to the last
quiet sigh.

Caroline Shank
525 · Jun 2021
Happy Birthday
Caroline Shank Jun 2021
The clock no longer chimes.
The dinner bell no longer rings.
These sounds on which I so

Your place is in the grave
with flowe#sș00rs down u ND er
A ND unanswered prayers¢.

Caroline Shank
524 · May 2022
Caroline Shank May 2022
It's been a long day.  You
died so soon ago and we notice
your noise is gone, the parakeets and me.
You should comment somehow on
the oddness of things
since your disease.

The paranoia and lies the dementia
played made your dreams seem like
waking and your sleep tore into

you with fantasies and confusion.
You shouldered the  nurses by
telling them you felt fine.  That
lie pushed you to more agitaton.

I never knew you would get well.
I was cursed with a colder reality.  
As I drove to see you in the cocoon
of the nursing home I wondered
would you be crying or well.  

It was the crying I never unfolded.
in your room where we so carefully
braided the colors to your whims.
The colors are the same today.

Now wilted, the bright sun's rays
like the daylight dim but your harsh
yellow teeth spread around my
name and you saw me beaten
and unforgiven

You took me with you to the
Hell of brass urns.  I thought
to ask you why but the look
on your framed face said you
were waiting and your yellow
grin dared me to be quiet.

I saw the years in stark
You in a painted slicker,
I knew you
loved me once and
briefly.   Your journey
was a long one. Mine is

to shower daily your burnt
name across the
yellow ******* of

chared Sorrow


Caroline Shank
May 15, 2022
509 · Dec 2022
Morning has Broken
Caroline Shank Dec 2022
Morning has broken 🎶.  The song
of a single bird brings down night's
shadows, chimes the diurnal
trill of a new day.

The same shiny blue glare

Gathered moments.

Groceries for the soul.

Caroline Shank
494 · Feb 2021
Move It On Over
Caroline Shank Feb 2021
Move it on over little dawg.  
I jump freight trains now.  
I sleep where i want.  
And I gnaw the souls of
better men than you


I don't hear you anymore.
I write my own songs
and I wave away your
charmless melodies


I hum as I hear the
music of another


Move it on over
little dawg, the
big dawg moved


Caroline Shank
489 · Feb 2022
At Last
Caroline Shank Feb 2022
You have walked into the destruction
of your mind and found a place there.
The detritus of a life lived in the face
of cancer, storms, and death abandoned
of the private letting go of acceptance.

You screened a life worth living
and found it wanting of love and

Someday we will meet and
our faces, full of knowledge,
will know the relief of a rest
realized. The
nourishment of a kindred
moment of unmitigated

I will be your welcome.  I will
solve the enigma of two
lives waiting for a single

We run now,
members  of the
cloister of our lives


Caroline Shank
477 · Nov 2019
Caroline Shank Nov 2019
So long ago.    
I was always older than you.
You were stronger than I.
It was Summer, you rolled
joints in the kitchen.  I
waited in the other room.

Other rooms, other tales.
I remember the night
we walked to the tavern.
I wrote poems while you
played pool.  I wore red,
you touched my
hand.  I didn't know you,
stranded on the brink of
midnight, waiting for me
to end the song.  

You left me in the rain,
toeing the brush of your
dense backyard.  I called,
my voice thrown in the
rain, the wind's song
tortured with the sound
of tears.

This Thanksgiving.
I will drink alone,
long ago yesterdays,
linger to

Caroline Shank
472 · Dec 2020
I Never Expected This
Caroline Shank Dec 2020
I never expected this.  That
in my 70's I would be ink
on a blank page. That my
life's work would be poems
on a shelf, written about
gone people, dead memories.

I never wanted them, the memories, the reflections
stored in old coffee cans.
Waterlogged letters saved
from decay to become themselves decayed.

I will sit forever in my chair,
me and my notebooks fallen
around me, incense laden,
curled around my slippered
feet, hiding the poems pressed
in the pages of my youth.

Caroline Shank
464 · Dec 2019
Caroline Shank Dec 2019
The stream trickled on
the frog jumped in to cool off
the branch creaked with loss

Caroline Shank
436 · May 2020
Will You Still Love Me?
Caroline Shank May 2020
Will you make love to me in sunlight
and in the rain?   Will you sing to me
when the hours go by? I will be in
your voice calling.  

Will you make love to me in winter
when the pale day is soft
snow against the windows?  Will
your warm breath leave patterns
on my skin?

I will be your landscape.  My love
is an echo.  You will hear me
for years.  My soul is the perfect
moment melded with your kiss.

I want you to run with me toward
the early spring of our youth. To
remember beneath the kiss lies
love unparalled in literature.

No, not Tristan and Isolde, but
the coupled clutch itself opened.
Where they were unrequited we will
soar over wars and peace.

Will you love me tomorrow when
I am rubbed with age?  I will
be the first one to go to the
stars.  I will be brave today and
you can take my soul to Heaven.  
Will you still love me tomorrow?

I will love you after you are gone.
The tears of my memory will
outlast ever your casual goodbye.

Caroline Shank
431 · Jul 2022
Caroline Shank Jul 2022

You ride the poles of my
electric memory.  I feel
your grip on the wires
of my need.

I mourne at last your
absence.  The pulse
Is faint now.  You will climb
the last time soon
to dry the lines, wipe
the torn wires

and stop the

aching name.

The pounding code
of a life


Caroline Shank
429 · Jul 2020
There Be Dragons
Caroline Shank Jul 2020
At what point do I cross over
to the unknown spaces?
Fires carve.  Smoke
marks the places of memory.

"Beyond this point there be

I run to the flat humid
edge of the world.
Under my feet is lava.  
"Is this a dream? "
I ask the lone

"Hurry" he said "Run
the wind loosens your

There is no room to
sit in this desolate
geography.  I am bound
to the edge with laces.

Call the naked lion.
Retrieve for me
the last vestige of sanity.
The remnants of sensation.

I remain alone on the
precipice of thought.
Find me, if you can,
amid the char and
debris of your last


Caroline Shank
427 · Jul 2020
Caroline Shank Jul 2020
My Daughter Finding Fossils
    Lake Michigan
    (Nine years old)

Early morning beached bones
and million-year-old rocks
whisper, “Little girl?”.
She stops.  The socks she
carries rattle full of rocks.
She hears the one she wants.

She calls, “Mommy, look!”.
She thinks the fossil has smiles
I can see.  Ah, I haven’t seen
fossil smiles since I was nine
and curly and cradling my own
socky bundle by the beach
of little mouths calling to
little girls of fossil dreams,
fossil futures, and stone-hard
fossil love.

Caroline Shank
415 · Dec 2019
Caroline Shank Dec 2019
She is not gone. You have not
lost her.  She is transformed
into shine and glow and into
star stuff.  You are part of her
in some way that glistens in
the Universe.

Death is only a segment of the
cycle of which you are the
best part.  Her laugh rings
around you. Her love
transfigures you.  Listen.

The tinkling of star songs is
for you.  The sparkle in your
eye is her. Be aware that
death is a tap over your
shoulder, a smile in your

You have touched a miracle
of which you are a player.  There
is no way into tomorrow.  Today is the way to love her forever.

Today is always.

Caroline Shank
414 · Mar 2021
Go In Pease
Caroline Shank Mar 2021
So I sez to noone there.
Go in pease.
Noone answered so i
suppose you are hanging
around.  Let the day fold
into another night.  I no
longer cry for you I sez.

I bring back from you
the nurturing, the dreams.
So I will no longer go
wichu to the palace of
jewels that was your
hideout.  Only I was
allowed in until you
jest turned around and

I known no other love.
I will not suffer for a long
the way I drop crumbs
for you to follow in cases
you look for me in the
undergrowth of the years
and tears of a life

Caroline Shank
411 · Apr 2022
Caroline Shank Apr 2022
I dont want us to evaporate like the
last forlorn drops in the jar. The stuff
you can't reach.  It's when you throw
away the lingering remains of a
once future promise you shake the
meanings off slick with the wetness of tomorrow.

"Some may say I'm a dreamer but
I'm not the only one." You were
promise and gone before I drank
the last dark remains of my beer.
I sang the songs of unbelieving
in the moment before you left me
in the summer's late night rains.

We were spoken of by gods
and goddesses.  The language
was curious and fragrant. Full
and lyrical.  Did you lose their
song?  It was a fabulous song.
I believed in the tune we wrote
together. Tomorrow will fill our
throats with the flattened notes of
a once flying bird.

Caroline Shank
April 28, 2022
410 · Jun 2020
Old Roses and Summers
Caroline Shank Jun 2020
My life, then, hung like a
sun-yellow mobile that spun
in the heat as I flowed from
one end of summer to the other.
The songs on the radio were
my island.  My life as a girl
in the years before fences
appears in memory slides,
dressed in the beaches of  

I grew from seeds to roses in
the ground of my childhood
summers.  In the calendar of
my life as a young girl
every date prefigured you.
Day by day, in the years of
growing I bought, with the
barter of my soul, all the
heat and all the music.

Battened by the times before
you, strengthened by long
storms, hot suns, cold winds,
this, then is what I offer
you:  deep beaches, thornworn
roses, summers that flow
from one end of your life
to the other.

Caroline Shank
I'm not sure if I posted this before
383 · Oct 2019
In My Dream
Caroline Shank Oct 2019
We have ridden camels
in the Kalahari,
Flew Eagles over Canada,
walked across the Niagra.

We have boated up the
Nile and pierced the
catacombs of Rome.
We made love by the
red rock in Australia.

Our adventures overlap
We've spun the Sun and
tossed the moon,
walked on coals,
groomed gorillas and
climbed to Lhasa.

We were married in Tibet,
among the Chinese stalls,
made our way to India
and slept with tigers.

The planet swings
as we kiss, and spins
to the rhythm of Joy.

Caroline Shank
382 · Jul 2022
No Way Back
Caroline Shank Jul 2022
I didn't shed a tear until
yesterday.  Your memory
pulled me back
years of
the flood of
the days and nights,
the children, rogue
warriors in our battles
their  children confused
by the confessions,
the chest pounds
of sorrow.

Where you remain
under the guise
of husband.

Caroline Shank
July 10, 2022
374 · Feb 2022
Caroline Shank Feb 2022

He was perfect at loving me.
He knew the sweet spot.

He walked with me and
He talked with me.

That's a song.  I forget the rest
But i didn't forget him.

He appeared
like A Grace.

He took

A longtime
going away. .  

He left in the

I am invisible now,
by your side.

Tomorrow i will write him a letter
and i will Trust.

Tomorrow i will do a lot of things.
Alone i watch him flailing in
the wheat's crease where it

spreads itself on the road.

Love is a sorrow to my
soul.   He is missed
by the flowers we planted.
His memory blossoms,
The pain of this soldier's
retreat opens every night.


I wear his medals and

rub the shine

of the


Caroline Shank
355 · Dec 2022
Emptied Emotion
Caroline Shank Dec 2022
He caught her thinking.  The
crossed legs signed

She'd bloomed and thought
that tonight was lost

to expectation.

He rested his memory
of her smoke filled

Nothing left emptied

Caroline Shank
It is my attempt at an Ekphrastic poem but I can't add a picture here
348 · Jan 2021
Caroline Shank Jan 2021
I seem to be broken now.
Pieces fall as strangled
shapes to the floor.  
I toe them, looking
for the edges to rustle
back together.

Fragments fall.
Dried edges and shriveled
meanings.  (The torn
remains of my old age.)

I think I am broken.
My poems drift
off as blowing leaves
in a dry season.  
I rake them into
a pile.  The crackles
and snaps. The ends
of thought.

I write this to save the few
remaining poems I have.
Words fall from the
dustpan of dry letters
on a cold night.

Caroline Shank
341 · Nov 2019
Caroline Shank Nov 2019
Not everyone believes in Angels
but I do.  Sweet singing below
hearing, at the heart of feeling.
Angels are wide white lace
that enfold me in my deepest
sorrow and my highest joy.  

I trust the whirl and whoosh
of them. I catch sight of them
on the side of my eye when
I am not even looking

Angels announced the coming
of Jesus and His going.
They whispered to me the day
my children were born.

I see Angels in the look of loved
ones.  They flutter above my
every day and lay me down
to sleep at night.

I see Angels in the corridor.
sweetly singing homecoming
to patients and embracing
Angels sylphing through me
as I work.

And in our sorrow Angels hold
our faces where tears fall.  Angels
kiss our souls with love and gently
bring us home.

Caroline Shank
332 · Sep 2022
A Night in Miami
Caroline Shank Sep 2022
Blue carpet.  Stones
between toes. Sun
seamed afternoon.  


Salt foams on shores.
Wet kisses my dream.

Walk on. The
lights of South Beach
a kaleidoscope.  Moon
paths. Warm breaths
on my mouth.

Tide breaks.

Salsa brings the waves
to ******.

Daylight comes.

Caroline Shank
325 · Jan 31
Your not so slender form stands
in the bedroom door. You yawn.
I remember you before the
drugs took you to the ends
of my life.

Old now, the reckless
times are gone. Still you try,
hanging onto the threads of
yesterday.  Tangents of

You strive to steer your
way through the long sleep,
the crash after
the burning addiction gets
you. You climb into
tomorrow like a crawl
Into infancy

and you tell me it's all
right Mom.

Caroline Shank
318 · Jun 2020
Four Questions
Caroline Shank Jun 2020
" There are only four questions of value in life, Don Octavio.
What is sacred?
Of what is the spirit made?
What is worth living for,
and what is worth dying for?

The answer to each is the same:
only love."

From don Juan de Marco

Where are you now when songs
get blown and dance in the turf
of memory?  I find the ends of
everyday strings tie the knots
knitted from songs I've heard
and poems I've written.

Four questions are unanswered
Don Octavio.  I travel over years
undone or never to be.  My mind
unknits the warm nights, the chirp
of insects, the swarm so thick
we could not make love in the
dark, by the lake.

No answers swim into my mind.
No questions fall to the ground.
My gown remains laced.  You
touched me under the ties but
you left me in the rain, unanswered,
unable to return to the capsule
out of which time begat those
four questions.  

Look for the answers under the
salt of my tears and find only
smears.  My tears are no reply.

Caroline Shank
315 · Sep 2022
Caroline Shank Sep 2022
is a circle.
minefield of

I inhale.

The rasp of a door


Gone to rust.

Pieces of

Jigged thoughts…

clang of

Soggy Days.

Lie wet


The air pushed.

Behind me a
young woman


Caroline Shank
310 · Feb 2020
The Lamp
Caroline Shank Feb 2020
The lamp is lit, the day undercover.
I wonder where you are?  In my chair,
in my room, on the sidewalk.  I think
I will never see you.  Your face
in the lamplight mirrors the summer
night I called but you never came.

I sit under the light of the lamp
I ponder on my hands.  I held
you beyond understanding.

I promised not to hurt you.
I failed.  I heard myself
cry on the beach we shared
once and briefly.

My eyes are closing. The
light has long ago gone out.

Caroline Shank
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