Shirley Jones-Luke is a poet, writer and educator from Boston, Massachusetts.
She has an MA in English and an MFA in Creative Writing and is an Emerson College alum.
When not writing, she enjoys browsing bookstores, visiting art galleries and making jewelry.
The luggage is by the door
waiting for fabric, cartilage and hair
Make room for the remnants of
your soul and your crushed spirit
What is left to bind you to
Chemotherapy: the slow drip of drugs
into the skin,
Your arm grips the chair
frays the edges.
A river meanders through the tunnel of your veins.
You stare at the ceiling praying to the tiles,
There is no answer, just charts
written in hieroglyphics.
Visible from Space
A black hole absorbs all light
welcome to infinite darkness
A breakup destroys all love
welcome to a lonely heart
I sidestep cracks in the sidewalk
answer questions with a misdirection
A drain in the street sucks up
trash, leaves and waste
It's the black hole of the sewer
broken dreams live there
A tree is bent from a storm
branches block the drain
There is a buildup of twigs
a bird's nest is a casualty
Laughter echoes in the wind
a star shoots past Saturn
Its rings are dusty
So is my love