Chloe Yelena Miller: Four Poems

English Vocabulary: Eclipse

They pass through each other’s shadows.

Mothers gesture with ringed fingers,
share sorrow in a stored language of muscle memory:

when we held our infants
what did and did not come after.

That precious sorrow, visible
in a bent arm, downturned face.

The pause. The passing.

The pause.


To Do
or After

Eat sushi, soft and blue cheeses, ocean bottom feeders, rare beef.

Drink coffee, tea, wine, beer, after dinner drinks.

Swallow decongestants, sleeping pills.

Sit for a pedicure. Let her rub your ankle.

In yoga class, jump, twist, invert your body.

At home, trip over the coffee table’s outstretched leg. Land on your
stomach. Don’t break your fall.



Bulb & shoots in water.
Change the water, rinse the roots.

Slice just enough garnish. Leave the rest.

When leaves wilt,
spill out the water, toss the plant.
Start over.


Question of Love

Week 5

A young woman, I loved quickly again
after each inevitable end.

You, I must love you later.

You, cradled
behind my pelvic bone.

I can’t admit this love.


An ultrasound of an unborn child adorns the cover of Viable, a book by Chloe Yelena Miller
Viable by Chloe Yelena Miller

Photo credit: Hans Noel

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