Susanna Dancy

Poetry

Original writings by Susanna Dancy

Poetry text over images of dried flowers a golden hour that pulls at the edges of summer a parcel of unparsed past, crinkling. Like the pages of the papers my grandfather used to read turning, then, quieted. A tinge of sepia setting in.
poetry over beige background pretty girls in messy rooms yellow snow shovels left out on balmy nights red planters and yellow buckets on 2nd story windows neon orange cowboy hats in place of safety caps a small bouquet for $10 in an ugly spotted mug the white flowers on her brown mask short skirts on black bikes deep sleep in an afternoon thunderstorms
text overlaying sepia-toned image of the shoreline The tides may change and the sun will rise, and just like that, the solace will set in but the moments between. when caught in the currents. loosen the body, release the grip still the mind let go of time and be awash for a moment and then, the current will pass and an exhale will guide your way up
white text over greyscale image of a cloudy night sky does she still surprise you too? spend the night savoring her shadows make every turn slower lengthen the time between daylight just to have another moment in between
Poetry on beige background with image of broken pottery Taut Too much taught (taut) when the dish was broken. The sliced open foot of someone else Clumsy from pain, or clumsy from absent thought There is no undo. A dish is broken. A foot, sliced. But there is no other dish, not quite like that. With it’s chip on the corner and warble at its conception. Something made with love, and a dab of clumsy. To pick up the pieces on bended knee, collecting jeagged edges and fine particles; a task done alone. The other mends their foot. s.dancy
poetry text overlaying image of palm trees. There was a blood moon rising with a thunderstorm gathering at its nape my fathers words, when I was a child: “If you have to force something, you could break it” (also see: the best advice I’ve ever been given) “I know Dad, I know” Then presently: His own weariness. Dressed up as if it were something else. I know Dad, I know. s.dancy
poetry text over image of vase of dried flowers Green gumdrops & tired eyes Something missing- Like golden fire flies on those youthful summer nights Now my red hat hangs on the wall and my shoes are by the door Is this what we become? Microwave dinners and sashay away sadness? Our instagrams on rewind-looping over and over again one ad after the next
Poetry text over sepia image of ocean water ruth be told, I loved it there. To feel the world swirling around me- Throwing me around with it like I'd always been there a part of the motion. My body was easy to roll and mold. It never hurt. Kind of like being on a rollercoaster but you didn't know where you were going and it wasn't made by man and you could feel the power of the water and know it was safe to trust. It's hard to describe the feeling I had coming up for air after. Like there was hunger in my body from the work I'd done but also. Also something like pride in surviving it while also never having feared it. Trusting the water, knowing it just a little better after it had taken me down
Poetry text over linen sheets an image of linen sheets. For the rainy days that bring rest For knowing that the tides may change and the sun will rise For the lessons I've learned from people & books, for books This capacity to write and read and breathe For the things I left unspoken in knowing that the meaning would be lost For the dear ones that stand beside me, that know me For the travels I've been on and travels to come For the purple iris in my bedroom For the glass of milk I had today.

Thanks for being here.