By: Kathleen Holliday
“They are leaning out for love,
and they will lean that way forever.”
Leonard Cohen
My feet push off the ground
tipping,
way, way back,
wondering just how far
I can lean in my new
lounge chair.
I could lean this way
forever,
falling back into other summers,
weightless,
until I’m brought up short by my age.
Gravity socks me firmly
in its palm like a ball
in a catcher’s mitt,
but not before I remember
all the leaning out for love,
longing for someone
to catch me.
Kathleen Holliday lives on an island in the Salish Sea. Her writing appears or is forthcoming in The Write Launch, The Bellingham Review, The Blue Nib Literary Magazine, Cathexis Northwest Press, Common Ground Review, Poetry Super Highway, and SHARK REEF, a Literary Magazine. She is a graduate of Augsburg University, Minneapolis and an erstwhile student of the Lyle's Bar School of Poetry. She is at work on her first full-length poetry collection.