Thickly Settled / Bluestocking / Denial Settled
By Christy Bailes

Sadness blows west with air so dry
I taste bitter dust
mixed with tumbleweed
and golden brush.

What I lost
has reversed direction,
as if it were the last moment
before death.

Kneeling to tree roots
in rich, summer earth, I inhale
New England one last time and
stare at thickly settled roads

that will soon change
into long, wide-open spaces,
leading home to windier
yet sunnier days.


She was put together so lovely
in a black-and-white dress,
then she turned away,
revealing tousled hair,
as if to invite boundless art.

Trying to make my smile fall,
I covered my face,
and listened to whispers
containing blue, the color
of her eyes under

literary charm, as she
sprinkled blue chips,
blue blood, like word dust
from fingers long enough
to write meaning on my heart.

Who says English can’t sail
blue waters? Her class
taught life in synonyms,
strong enough to sway
me down the writing path.


She was mad when she saw her
hair in the yard. I was mad too
when I saw my denial, clinging
to the grass in clumps, more curly,
more reddish-brown than I remember.

I threw myself down, pulling hair
like weeds to quickly throw away
death that I got confused with ashes.
And as strong as the wind was, some
strands slipped from my hands.

Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing, SNHU Student