Poetry lovers, I'm turning the spotlight, now, on British-Mauritian Poet Elizabeth Castillo. Today, Elizabeth shares two poems from her recently released book Not Quite an Ocean (Nine Pens Press). I'm certain everyone will enjoy this sample! Thank you, Elizabeth, for sharing your emotive work.
Origami
Fold myself up like an apology scribbled on a scrap of paper.
Like a receipt wrapped around a loose credit card you thought you’d lost.
Like a nervous thumb into a tight fist. A phone number, tucked into your back pocket.
Like the linens you forgot to hang out in time, and now stink of neglect.
Like your hand around a child’s trusting palm.
Like a Paris restaurant, and its cloth napkins.
Like the end I have brought upon myself.
Like a delicate, paper swan.
Like a receipt wrapped around a loose credit card you thought you’d lost.
Like a nervous thumb into a tight fist. A phone number, tucked into your back pocket.
Like the linens you forgot to hang out in time, and now stink of neglect.
Like your hand around a child’s trusting palm.
Like a Paris restaurant, and its cloth napkins.
Like the end I have brought upon myself.
Like a delicate, paper swan.
Waves
Have you ever stood inside the ocean?
Toes curled. Shaky purchase on the seafloor.
There is a lesson to be learned, if you will stand
and defy Poseidon inside his own court. Waves,
they travel single file. To hide their numbers.
Waves- they suffer neither fool nor survivor. Waves-
they just keep coming. The moon-
she has no care for the divisions of you life, for these
tiny boxes you amass and fill. Compartments overflowing,
still she stands, looming as her soldiers consider their
onslaught. Waves- breaking neither themselves nor each other.
Waves- at every side, there is no path outside of them. Waves-
exiling you back to the shore.
How long have you been standing here?
Toes curled. Shaky purchase on the seafloor.
There is a lesson to be learned, if you will stand
and defy Poseidon inside his own court. Waves,
they travel single file. To hide their numbers.
Waves- they suffer neither fool nor survivor. Waves-
they just keep coming. The moon-
she has no care for the divisions of you life, for these
tiny boxes you amass and fill. Compartments overflowing,
still she stands, looming as her soldiers consider their
onslaught. Waves- breaking neither themselves nor each other.
Waves- at every side, there is no path outside of them. Waves-
exiling you back to the shore.
How long have you been standing here?
Elizabeth M. Castillo is a British-Mauritian poet, writer & indie-press promoter, and a two-time Pushcart Prize nominee. She lives in Paris with her family and two cats, where she writes different things, in different languages, under different pen names. Her writing has been published internationally, and her bilingual, debut Cajoncito is on sale now. Her new chapbook Not Quite an Ocean can be purchased from Nine Pens Press. Follow her on Twitter @EMCWritesPoetry.