Cordelia Hanemann, Losses


I had a silver dollar
I dropped into the sand,
and though the sum was little,
I felt I’d lost my land.

I had a robin red breast,
who sang to me all day,
but when the trees turned red,
he up and flew away.

Life brought me coins and birds;
I called them all by name,
yet those first leavings left me bare,
and naked in my frame.

I had a special star:
my light—how it did fly,
but when I wasn’t looking,
it perished from the sky.

And though the skies are crowded
and all the night a-shine,
I care not for their sparklings,
since none of them is mine.

I had a friend who laughed and cried.
One day my friend left me alone,
and, though I’ve coins, birds, and stars galore,
I’m shriven to the bone.

Cordelia Hanemann is a writer and artist in Raleigh, NC. She has had her work published in numerous journals and anthologies, including Turtle Island Quarterly, Connecticut River Review, Glassworks Magazine, Laurel Review, The Well-Versed Reader, Heron Clan IV and Kakalak 2018; and in her own chapbook Through a Glass Darkly. 

Cordelia’s poem ‘photo-op’ was a finalist in the Poems of Resistance competition at Sable Press while ‘Cezanne’s Apples’ was nominated for a Pushcart. Recently Cordelia was Negative Capability Press and The Alexandria Quarterly’s featured poet. She is working on her first novel, which focuses on her Cajun Louisiana roots.

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