Three Poems by Joan E. Cashin

soft cartel may 2018


Three bounces on the trampoline
(give thanks, thanks, thanks),
my head bumping the moon
(boing, boing, boing),
as I swallow the stars
(gulp, gulp, gulp)
and the light pours out your name
from my eyes.


I heard the dove at the window.
I heard the weaving.
Later, I saw the nest.
Then, I heard the bleating,
sad and scratchy,
late winter, not home yet.

Body Weight

When I am fat,
I feel safe, quilted,
protected in my bunker.

When I am thin,
I feel dangerous,
a blade slicing the air,
a knife thrown at a target
I do not see.

Joan E. Cashin writes from Ohio.  
She has published in many journals, most recently in 

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