Front Porch Review
A literary magazine for the young at heart and mind

Signals signs calling colors
Are a passage to nothing
Dying metaphor     but also
Children of the heart

It is all we have
Sounds colors
Amens at the throat     testify
Against reality

Angels see   Blind
We surface for signals
Dust on its way to dust

Stumble at a rose
Spiny barriers at scalloped flesh
Its many colored scent breaks us

Sometimes a song burns
At the edge     Below
The mourning dove’s round sounds
Continue     throaty bruised

One instant holding slow
We stay
Translating bird song

By Mariam Dubovik Lease

Mariam Dubovik Lease is currently completing her first book of poems. Her special interest is poetry which, for her, is words turning action into music, a search at the edge of things, an interrupted conversation with the Muse.