Monday 5 May 2014

3 Poems by Susie Sweetland Garay


Often lately I find myself pulling over
ever so suddenly to the side of the road,
leaping from my still running vehicle
to take a photograph
of a thing that is too beautiful to pass by.

We are all more charming
and interesting because
our imperfections,
our mistakes.

A rare coin with a flaw is worth so much more
than one of so many perfect versions.

I receive odd looks from passersby,
but most hurry quickly back
to their daily migration.

So many gifts
dropped in our paths.
I try to pay attention,
to notice,
and place them one by one
carefully into my pocket.


My mother,
after listening
to me yell
at a taxi driver
in another
language which
I barely speak,
tells me that
she has now
seen a side of me
which she had
heard of, but
never seen.

being a bitch
is the only
way to get
things done.

A plastered smile,
filth for the sake of filth,
or meanness with no
reason at all.

I want my anger
to be productive

I want a reminder
of the life that
beneath the cold
frozen ground.


learning to share
In the woods
I came across a
coyote feeding
ground strewn
with bones.
They had found
a deer carcass and,
I can only assume,
shared it – all
feasting together.

But the bones
they left for me.

Sharing is much
harder for those
on two legs.


Born and raised in Portland Oregon, Susie received a Bachelor’s degree in English Literature from Brigham Young University, spent some years in the Ohio Appalachians and currently lives in the Willamette Valley with her husband and cat where she works in the Vineyard industry. She spends her free time writing, growing plants and making art. She has been published in a variety of journals, on line and in print, and co edits The Blue Hour Literary Magazine and Press, <>

No comments:

Post a Comment