Perhaps

Somewhere there's a man who follows the ocean breeze
into a conch shell of lavender breath,
a man who will float in and out of my curled walls
until one day his anchor will fall on my heart.
Today I glance around, wonder if I've met that man
yet. I can't imagine what he might look like
for fear that I'll carve the wrong face,
miss the real wave when it passes over my home.
Try, try, try to fly, I will say to him.
He'll try and fail.
Try and fail.
He'll look behind himself
see that his wings are on me,
can't lift off without my flowering hand.

by E. M. Soos

Bike Ride

Melodious poems caress the soft creases
of my ears, Fiona Apple warms
the headphones, sings of wearing time
like a dress. My pedaling slows
to the bluesy beat, blood flows
through my limbs.

I picture a sweet open field.
My legs wrapped around ribs
of an appaloosa. Fiona's
singing never drowns out
the whistling finches. The wind
covers traffic sounds. A feeling
of love, so pure, for life
fills my eyes.
Equal only to a child's laugh.

by E. M. Soos