Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
Read the latest from my poetry blog, “A Hundred Falling Veils“, where there’s a poem in every day. You can use this link to subscribe.
A Hundred Falling Veils
- Too Late? November 29, 2025By the time we arrive at the cliffsideto watch the sunset, the darknesshas already come. But becauseof the ink-ish sky, we see thousandsof yellow lights glitter across the harbor.And moonlight on the water makesthe blackened surface shine. How oftendo I think I’m too late, only to find I havearrived at just the right moment,the moment […]Rosemerry
- After November 28, 2025After the leftovers have been spoonedinto storage containers and the forksare all snuggled back in their drawers,when the few who are left are sprawledon the couch or curled on the floor,and we’re sleepy-eyed and satedand telling stories and laughingat ourselves, this is my favorite partof the day, when all of the fixing is doneand we […]Rosemerry
- Such Gratefulness November 27, 2025I messed up. Big.It was, you can imagine,embarrassing.My daughter put her headon my shoulder,her body warm, hertouch soft.It’s okay, mom, she said,her voice gentle and small.Everyone messes up.She slipped her handinto mine. For a long timewe sat that way.What was big becamesmall. What was smallbecame great.In one humble moment,the vast arc of love.I felt myself […]Rosemerry
- Walking Down 37th Ave in Queens November 26, 2025Sam teaches me how tonot look like a tourist.Never look up, he says.Don’t look back or around.Don’t pause; keep moving.Even if you don’t knowwhere you’re going.This is when I knowtwo things: One: I love Sam.How cool he is. The bullet trainefficiency of his attention.How he loves me enoughto want to help me be cool.Two: I […]Rosemerry
- Ginkgo in Downtown New York November 25, 2025They live a thousand years.This, alone, is enough toinvite admiration. Robust.Unfussy. They survive drought,disease, pollution, pests.They thrive in the midst of sirensand car fumes, gridlocks andgarbage cans, concrete and horns. And all across the city today,a golden fluttering, a radiant tremblingon even the darkest streets. As ifto endure is not enough. As if we arealso here […]Rosemerry
- One Story of How We Make It Through November 24, 2025while kneeling in the chapel of despairfinding beside mea friendRosemerry
- Playing with the Wild Child November 23, 2025Beckett doesn’t want to play butterfly anymore.He wants to play band. He wants us to wearour green plastic glasses with bright lightsthat flash on the rims. He wants us to singabout trains. And train tracks. And more train tracks.Beckett names our two-person band the Sing Bells.We have three greatest hits. All three featureme on tambourine […]Rosemerry
- Child November 22, 2025You will sit naked in the centerof a circle, aware others are watching.They’ll have white hair and point at you in delight.You will reach beneath a fence to stealsomething small, a black plastic manwith a coat that ripples in unseen wind.Guilt guarantees the toy never brings you joy.You name him The Stranger. He will never […]Rosemerry
- When We Share Our Broken-Open Hearts November 21, 2025Together we weavean invisible cocoonfashioned from trustand listening,its fibers strong enoughto support a miracle, soft enough to holdeven the tenderestof wounds. In just daysa whole galaxyemerges. Seehow we spiraltogether.Rosemerry
- Sometimes Grief Looks Like This November 20, 2025The woman walks into the woods.How beautiful, she thinks, thoughon closer look, all around herthe woods sprawl in wild disarray.Fallen logs decompose, wood rots,decays. Bark peels. Brambles scramble.Berries darken and shrivel. Moss drops offin great chunks. Broken sticks hangfrom broken branches. And all of it belongs.She thinks how messy grief can be.The barbed thorns […]Rosemerry