January Phone Call
My friend calls one night
to whisper about the copper
heart of Fallen Leaf Lake
where she plans
to kill herself. I draw it
everyday and while such threats
are part of her story, have been
for years, tonight I believe
the tremble in her voice,
the way I can almost see
in spite of the states and miles
that separate us, her eyes
like darting insects, trapped
against a screen. I remind
her of her grandson,
ten years old, adoring her.
She stops speaking, a breath
like soft cotton travels
the dark corridors between
us. For this moment only, I may
have flicked on small headlights,
bulbs almost glowing in a sparse
globe, I do love that boy, she says
at last.
Beth Konkoski is a writer and high school English teacher living in Northern Virginia with her husband and two kids. Her poetry has been published in journals such as: The Potomac Review and The American Journal of Poetry. She has two chapbooks: "Noticing the Splash" with BoneWorld Press and "Water Shedding" with Finishing Line Press.
Art: “Beneath the Ice” by Sandy Coomer - 12X12, acrylic pour on claybord
Statement: This poem touched me. I wanted to examine that underlayer of faith and love that sometimes gets covered by stress, fear, and sadness. If we can look into the layers we think are futile, there is color desperately trying to rise.