Poetry by Tricia Gates Brown
drawn by liquid chemistry
redolence of home
I made my way to you
like a salmon to natal streams
but did not find you
you, out of reach—a few blocks west
a mile north, fields brimming
July heat and amber as I drove
tear-bleary on that road
so alone
years later when I found you
we looked at each other like pilgrims
stumbling our peregrine way
past fresh graves—resigned
the lone wanderers
yet the throb-thrumming of hearts
drew us—awakened unaware
to desire
unlikely arrivals
we counted our seeds
planted greenhouses, fields fertile
with craving
flesh and blood enfolded—
the consummation of careful steps
at once overtaken to opulence
blushed abundance
tendrils of ardor
patterns of resilience and life
head-spinning
unstoppable
About the Poet
Tricia Gates Brown’s poems and essays have appeared in various publications including: Portland Review, GEEZ Magazine, Rain Magazine, Oregon Humanities and Portland Magazine, among others. She lives in a woodland cottage on the north Oregon Coast where she writes and edits, designs gardens, and dotes on two very lucky cats. She is author of the novel Wren.
For the first time in nearly five years, Vita Brevis is closed for submission. Read the full story here.
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