I dream that I am entirely made of cinnamon
the rough yet velvety bark, the reddish tone,
the warm and ample sparkling of the earthly loam
brought into being by the faintest touch of hands
that hover now as I dissolve or the dream itself
of cinnamon curls around me. “Cinnamon,” from Internal Combustion “Rainbow Window,” photograph ©1993 Barry Brukoff, used by permission Copyright 2025 Theresa Whitehill, All Rights Reserved A chair or a bench
placed in a garden
tells a person
where to sit, and a path
where to walk, but what
about a war? “Untitled,” from A Grammar of Longing Geometric pattern courtesy of British Library Pictorial Archives Copyright 2025 Theresa Whitehill, All Rights Reserved “Warm Mama,” detail of letterpress broadside; poem, Theresa Whitehill; watercolor, Sophia Sutherland Copyright 2025 Theresa Whitehill, All Rights Reserved I am covering you with feathers
I am making this up for you
I am casting aside the daylight
I am clearing a path for you
I am standing up for you
and even though I feel empty without you
and even though it feels wrong and half-clipped
and even though I am told this is very wrong and shouldn’t be this way
and isn’t natural
I am defying the world for you
I am including my love for you
I am being brave on your behalf “Untitled,” from Bones Figure 2 analytical drawing courtesy of British Library Pictorial Archives Copyright 2025 Theresa Whitehill, All Rights Reserved
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