RAGANA: SUZANNE SAVICKAS

Suzanne Savickas obtained her Ph.D. in Counseling and Human Development Services from Kent State University and her M.F.A. in Writing and Poetics from Naropa University. She currently is completing a hybrid manuscript entitled “Death Poems.” She resides in northeast Ohio where she works as a psychotherapist in private practice.

 

Cityscape

Steam
rising from the grate give
breath
Whiteness within the darkness.  Squinting
to see more
clearly,
I find you
blurred, hiding,

Beneath the surface,
scratched,
motionless.

 

 

Spectacles

Spectacles
to re-explore softness,
the light before your focus,
illegible.

Softness comes
at a price
I cannot afford
to pay accordingly.

Spectacles barely make out
the shadow
of your ghost.

Shapes realigned
beneath the sheets.
I will call you tomorrow
after regretting tonight.

I play the fool.
Your punctuation has already
come to an end.

 

“Song for Baby-O, Unborn,” Revisited
after di Prima

If you survived to see this day,
I would shield your eyes
from this heartbreak,
let you hide beneath this smooth
blanket,

Grace your fingertips with adoration as I
refrain myself from guarding your ears
from the cacophony
We should have created peace for you
to extend your soul into this world

And dance freely in the mosh pit of the
city,
exploring the known and unknown
beneath the rare new blue moon

I will trace the ghost of your soul to save
in our memory.

 

Resumed Nightmare #3
after Diane di Prima

The unborn
Debilitated
We have momentarily been Stunted

Flooded with the non(sense)
of attempting to make sense
My eyes share the grief
My shoulder carries your weight.
My feet crack the truth

Not all is lost
You predicted facing this battle,
Gasping for breath between snores

Counting the ways to say goodbye
But,
Instead, Long
to great you
Hope

(Inheritance)
I have kept
The bassinet
The hand-stitched blanket
The rocking chair

Refer to myself as Penelope
I wait
We have not yet won the war.

 

Void
for Katie

null
and done
It is void
from empty promises

Stare at the mirror
as if the transient state
will bring you back

But nothing compares

I used to paint canvases
to remember you,
but the early recollections
are a burden.
The oil absorbed,
the noose tying
tighter around your
neck;

We will meet again.