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Two Poems with Audio by Julie L. Moore

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Does soil hurt

when the tulip pushes through? 
You think it a silly question, I know. 
You say the soil isn’t human with feelings 
or animal with instinct. Is more like a table 
that can’t answer when someone knocks 
for good luck, laugh when someone pulls
its leg, or scream when someone’s knife 
digs in. Is oblivious.

But I see a sharp tip as the bud pierces
the sepia skin like a thick needle, then red 
like blood hitting the air. And it inhales 
like a babe who sucks in first breath,
tight-fisted, rooting for the milk of mother
earth, the throbbing womb it’s just split 
open. You know full well life can’t come forth
without pain.




Head resting on the window sill, 
my Lab sits, sniffing the cool autumn air
            like new grass in spring, 
                       watching, perhaps, the mist 
as it gathers around the ankles 
            of trees, then floats across the lawn
                       like words across a page, wrapping
around itself as breezes move 
            its margins, 
                       breath of morning flowing 
like inspiration, drifting 
            through the open window…



Julie L. Moore is the author of Slipping Out of Bloom, forthcoming from WordTech Editions, and the chapbook, Election Day (Finishing Line Press). A Pushcart Prize nominee and recipient of the Rosine Offen Memorial Award from the Free Lunch Arts Alliance, Moore has contributed poetry to Alaska Quarterly ReviewAtlanta ReviewChautauqua Literary JournalThe Christian Science Monitor, Cimarron Review, Dogwood, Flint Hills Review, Free Lunch, The MacGuffin, Sou’Wester, and Valparaiso Poetry Review. Her website is is the world’s first online journal of place, publishing a rich mix of literature, artwork, case studies, and more since 1997.