Old Plum
The landscape, continents away from where I stand, hemispheric change, yet oddly similar. Rough, layered stone, trees twisted by the bellow of wind, a few branches in bud, a few branches heavy in death. Yet among this bleakness, an explosion of delicate flowers, white tinged with pink. Next to them, a valiant beam of red petals and green leaves rooted in rock. If I stare into the flower’s heart, I can see the past, back and back and back, when the world was blushed with beginning, the sky held a young sun in its turquoise hands, the spirits of the dead twirled in mad joy. Valerie Bacharach Valerie Bacharach’s poetry has appeared in several publications including Pittsburgh Poetry Review, Pittsburgh City Paper, Pittsburgh Quarterly, US 1 Worksheets, The Tishman Review, Topology Magazine, Poetica, VerseWrights, and Voices from the Attic. She is a member of Carlow University’s Madwomen in the Attic workshops and conducts weekly poetry workshops for the women at Power House and CeCe’s Place, halfway houses for women in recovery from drug and alcohol addiction. Her first chapbook, Fireweed, will be published in 2018 by Main Street Rag. She lives in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
0 Comments
Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
Leave a Reply. |
The Ekphrastic Review
COOKIES/PRIVACY
This website uses marketing and tracking technologies. Opting out of this will opt you out of all cookies, except for those needed to run the website. Note that some products may not work as well without tracking cookies. Opt Out of CookiesJoin us: Facebook and Bluesky
July 2025
|