Two Poems
Lena Grace Sone
Lena Grace Sone
born and raised
who are you?
i am the pale green of april
oh, can you feel it, the new in your blood?
the way i can feel
the rain bide its time
what do you know of life?
life:
how the mississippi floods like
a ritual in cleansing
how we build a home there, still
would you know me?
from my bones?
dark eyed, dark haired child
do you belong? truly?
you do not have your mother's face
and yet, and yet, look at
the heavy shoulders, look how they carry
the sun
the truth
of a body is in the hands
who are you?
worry it over like a kernel of
corn between your teeth and
wash it down with well water, the self, and
all things must come from the earth
i am a ram, a virgin field
whatever tenderness comes
from wildness nurtured till the word don't fit anymore
and the moon looking down on it all
like a mirror,
“this is how you look to gd”
who are you?
i am the pale green of april
oh, can you feel it, the new in your blood?
the way i can feel
the rain bide its time
what do you know of life?
life:
how the mississippi floods like
a ritual in cleansing
how we build a home there, still
would you know me?
from my bones?
dark eyed, dark haired child
do you belong? truly?
you do not have your mother's face
and yet, and yet, look at
the heavy shoulders, look how they carry
the sun
the truth
of a body is in the hands
who are you?
worry it over like a kernel of
corn between your teeth and
wash it down with well water, the self, and
all things must come from the earth
i am a ram, a virgin field
whatever tenderness comes
from wildness nurtured till the word don't fit anymore
and the moon looking down on it all
like a mirror,
“this is how you look to gd”
who are you?
homemaker
someday, i want an old house
i want more bedrooms than i need
for a guest, a promise, or a ghost
i want that odd blue of dawn
stretched out across the floorboards
i want to meet it anew each morning
i want to open every window
till winter draws her first gasping breath
and leaves the kiss of frost on the glass
i want to leave a candle burning
all those windy nights
and never run out of matches
and every time
i want spring to be a revelation
i want my grandma's china cabinet
full of glasses that don't match
giving a residual amber glow
i want to break every one without the sting of it
stopped heart and stalled lungs
the only sharpness, the only thing that lingers
the taste of apples
i want sorrow
for the relief of its absence
kick off fear at the custom made doormat
leave your boots on the porch
find the key to tenderness under a rock in the garden
i want too many scratched records
a few clocks that never chime quite together
but are right all the same
my grandpa’s piano, still out of tune
chipped teacups, imperfect cabbage rose wallpaper
how what is broken is made whole
slowly, slowly
because it is loved
because it names itself home
i want more bedrooms than i need
for a guest, a promise, or a ghost
i want that odd blue of dawn
stretched out across the floorboards
i want to meet it anew each morning
i want to open every window
till winter draws her first gasping breath
and leaves the kiss of frost on the glass
i want to leave a candle burning
all those windy nights
and never run out of matches
and every time
i want spring to be a revelation
i want my grandma's china cabinet
full of glasses that don't match
giving a residual amber glow
i want to break every one without the sting of it
stopped heart and stalled lungs
the only sharpness, the only thing that lingers
the taste of apples
i want sorrow
for the relief of its absence
kick off fear at the custom made doormat
leave your boots on the porch
find the key to tenderness under a rock in the garden
i want too many scratched records
a few clocks that never chime quite together
but are right all the same
my grandpa’s piano, still out of tune
chipped teacups, imperfect cabbage rose wallpaper
how what is broken is made whole
slowly, slowly
because it is loved
because it names itself home
//
Lena Grace Sone is a non-binary lesbian poet born in Iowa and raised in Illinois. They started writing poetry in 2018, when they were fifteen years old, and never looked back. They love exploring nuanced topics such as LGBT+ love, religion, and the concept of home. The hours they don’t spend writing are spent reading, learning, and taking long drives past the prairie preserves listening to folk music.
Lena Grace Sone is a non-binary lesbian poet born in Iowa and raised in Illinois. They started writing poetry in 2018, when they were fifteen years old, and never looked back. They love exploring nuanced topics such as LGBT+ love, religion, and the concept of home. The hours they don’t spend writing are spent reading, learning, and taking long drives past the prairie preserves listening to folk music.