Slip
Terri McCord
The storm that winter oiled glass
my elbow almost puncturing
4-inch-thick ice my breath
slipped out from under me
Appropriate garment
not too see-through,
my hemline lace often visible
under whatever skirt
The night my friend and I went out
a bedroom window to see
our neighborhood at 3am
and didn’t replace the screen
To move
through these thoughts
quietly or alone
Slipped disks in the pet dogs
with low-slung backs
Clay and water mixture measured
for melding, gluing
separate parts
To take
cuttings from a plant i.e. a geranium
the slickness of wet moss
that yields a misstep
The flower, a daisy?
falling from
behind the ear
Terri McCord is a practicing visual artist as well as poet who also loves to combine text with her photographs. She has three published collections, the latest being The Beauts from Finishing Line Press. Her work has been nominated for the Pushcart and Best of the Net. She has won awards including a juried fellowship from the SC Arts Commission. Her poems frequently center on nature and animals.