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Work by Susan Kerr and Samantha Magrath

–Narrow Walkway, photo by Susan Kerr.

–Classic Gondola shot, photo by Susan Kerr.

[I’ll lay in the field with him one day, and we’ll act like]

I’ll lay in the field with him one day, and we’ll act like we don’t have a care in the world. We’ll laugh and lay in green, green grass and wish for nothing more. Breezes will caress our memories, and sunlight and blue, blue skies will expand our reach towards today’s romance and all things lovely. I’ll revel in my dimples. His, too, and the glint in his eyes’ twinkling. All will be well and wonderful and grand for we will want each other for abundance, not for pain or pity. We’ll be and hope and wonder. We’ll remember our yesterday’s lightly, glancing back to catch only the smiles. We’ll just be and lay in the sunny, warm grassy field, and let the sun kiss us all over and over and over again.


Copyright © 2010 by Susan Kerr.

Biography: Susan Kerr is a poet, artist, and entrepreneur living in Old Town Alexandria with frequent visits to Venice, Italy. Her work has appeared in her small collection of poetry called Little Ones as well as at OpenView Labs a book called What Really Matters: A Guide to Defining and Realizing Your Company Aspirations with an introduction by Tony Hsieh.

She is currently writing a small book called V sharing her love of Venice, Italy, expected out this summer. She\’d love to hear from you:

–Incredible Venice 1, photo by Susan Kerr.

a nun and a witch

“you’ll never meet a better man than me” another one aims the same hex at my back the first to curse me was right it all devolved from him, crooked adam

so I will become a nun and a witch doubly beyond their reach bridal in billowing black taking my shadowed vows under the dogwood and the ash out in the open in my witch’s habit unearthing roots, poaching a rabbit

I have no need of you won’t take heed of you I will be murmuring over beads, ring around the rosary in the cathedral, candles glimmer my spells, none of which will be love charms the wives will beg my prayers; what strange milk your cow will give

I will fly, I will fly! wild-haired under a wimple no man will know what to make of me with my ruler and my broom cloistered with a clutter of cats whistling hymns at midnight a censer full of bitter herbs ringing out an intoxicating cloud

I will take a saint’s name and a sinner’s name I have scorned your salary, disowned your endowment accepted the scholarship to the divinity school of the ditch my beloved fatherless daughter grows up to be the village bitch

and I will come before you and I will come after you oh I will be whole all on my own when I am a nun and a witch.

Copyright © 2012 by Samantha Magrath.


Samantha Magrath is a poet living in Takoma Park, MD. Her work has appeared in literary journals including Antietam, Bogg, Chiron Review, Connecticut River Review, and The Cape Rock.

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