Liberté
A canvas wet with paint,
a bow singing strings.
Every time our bodies join
in union, sky away.
Ocean waves silver,
say what they don’t say.
Memorial Service
End of summer, Michigan. Silver ash flight,
going home to nothing in his favorite lake.
A final wave goodbye caught in wind and light,
then into water down. I touched my own end,
dry & chalky. It was my father, leaving time
forever, a vanishing act. No holy notions,
just bone dust in memory that does not fade.
Wildflowers strewn on water while his jazz played.
Julia Caroline Knowlton is Professor of French at Agnes Scott College in Atlanta, where she has taught for twenty-five years. She has a PhD in French Literature from UNC-Chapel Hill and an MFA in Poetry from Antioch University. The author of four books, she was named a Georgia Author of the Year in 2018. She is the recipient of an Academy of American Poets College Prize and a Pushcart nominee. Her work has recently appeared in literary journals such as Boston Literary Magazine and Raw Art Review. You can find her on Facebook.
