In 1985, while pursuing a business degree, I unhappily landed in a creative writing class and announced to the group that I thought Walt Whitman was a chain of schools throughout the United States. To my astonishment, I had found my pacing, abandoned prose, and started a poetry circle that has been meeting for 16 years. I recently published a full length book, “Luna.” through Aldrich Press. I am the Poet in Residence at the West Milford Township Library and despite it all, love New Jersey, and have lived here over 50 years.
My porch in candles hosts all the lions who growl
from the other side. My father shoos raccoons
off the stairs. Last summer, he tossed a shovel
of gravel at a hungry bear. He could scare shadow-mice,
make darkness shiver. He pounces through
the candle’s fire as it licks the waxy stars that fall.
We are white light, candle lions who belong
to the same pride. The heat of his breath sears
though he is no longer alive. I have nothing to fear from this
or that side. These candles have ancient amber eyes.
©2015 Laurie Byro