ANNIE STENZEL

Carried, or buoyed


While I stood still, smug-happy, the horseshoe
tipped, spilling all of my good fortune on the ground.
Seep! The earth grew cheerful; then the sky
drew up the remaining moisture and made clouds
 
waltz. A whisper of bliss. Oh, so to share my good luck
was a boon for me? New pools of contentment formed;
sweet-water springs arose when my senses took in more
beauty. Have I not always known I am only
 
a vessel? I carry what chooses me, and whatever I feel
may be transmuted and restored, cell by cell. 

Annie Stenzel was born in Illinois, but has lived on both coasts of the U.S. and on other continents at various times in her life. Her book-length collection is The First Home Air After Absence (Big Table Publishing, 2017). Her poems appear or are forthcoming in print and online journals in the U.S. and the U.K., from Ambit to Willawaw Journal with stops at Chestnut Review, Gargoyle, Gone Lawn, On the Seawall, Psaltery & Lyre, SWWIM, The Ekphrastic Review, and The Lake, among others. A poetry editor for the online journals Right Hand Pointing and West Trestle Review, she currently lives within sight of the San Francisco Bay. For more, see anniestenzel[dot]com.