Nebula Forever rose in double lines on a deserted road when I was young, slowly converged in blurred distance with no hint of meeting. Forever sang a million tomorrows: none of us considered that no life could stretch that long. Forever slid off the tongue with the ease of a kiss. Years later, Forever rolled earth and sun into one, brilliant blues and startling scarlet tinted green, took shapes no longer imagined but lived, a lover, a child grown, us growing old. We began to glimpse the never of Forever, those highway lines an inky nebula, nothing more than a nursery for new stars. Joanne Durham Joanne Durham is the author of To Drink from a Wider Bowl, winner of the Sinclair Poetry Prize (Evening Street Press 2022) and the chapbook, On Shifting Shoals (Kelsay Books 2023). Her poetry appears in Poetry South, Whale Road Review, Vox Populi, and many other journals and anthologies. She teaches workshops in ekphrastic poetry online and in person. Joanne lives on the North Carolina coast, with the ocean as her backyard and muse. Visit her at https://www.joannedurham.com.
1 Comment
Andrea Taylor
1/26/2025 12:45:58 pm
Beautiful artwork and beautiful poetry in response. ❤️
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February 2025
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