A native of Venice CA, Ruth Gooley divides her life among the ocean, the mountains, the desert, and the sky. Feeling an affinity toward all living things, she carefully deposes spiders outdoors, avoids stinkbugs when she hikes, and counts stars as close friends. She published her dissertation, “The Image of the Kiss in French Renaissance Poetry” and has published poems in Mali Mirage, The Loyolan, Day Tonight Night Today, Pure Francis, Poecology, and The Red Poppy Review. She has forthcoming poems in Snowy Egret, Literary Fever, Hobble Creek Review, nibble, and Common Sense 2.
Ariel
By Ruth Gooley
By Ruth Gooley
To a lovebird
In the prison of my hands Ariel fights,
bites, struggles for flight,
to be airborne, fluid,
like the night’s spritelike passage,
dusk emboldened by dawn’s springing light,
rejects the loving hands
that would keep him
still.
Poor little Ariel, I hope he gets away. Nice poem.
He gets away and then he comes back for more.
Mmmm, a delightfully ambiguous poem. Makes me think about what night is, the time of dreams that so often disappear when I wake up, even though I try to write them down and hold them still.