IRMA COWTHERN - POEMS

Irma Cowthern is an emerging L.A. poet and short story writer.  She loves watching old black and white movies and listening to diverse music.

​The Hippie Couple

they don’t stroll by any more
his ancient granite hands
clasping hers,
fashioned of sonnets/lilies

my neck keeps stretching
eyes searching like a cyborg’s 
for his quarter-moon orbs 
bangs hiking across eyelids

i keep re-membering
her upturn nose probing the sun
long gray yarn swaying to janice
but they don’t stroll by any more

​

​The Orange Bird

“It has no seasoning. No soul.”
“What is it?” 
“A freaking orange bird.”

they laugh, 
the night train passes to another hand
worn by packing/lifting/pulling/pushing

its rim touches chapped lips
the face, marred by blistering suns
security approaches & the men vanish

​

One Morning
​

one morning sharp pains
raced up/down 
my stomach/thighs
i rolled back/forth 
across the bathroom floor
retreating into myself
holding on to a blue sky
walking away strong

​