Chandra Alderman

Blue Heron

-for Silsbe

I’m in bed
my world reduced
to the size of my window.
Cool sheets and pillows.
None of these
ease the hurt
of this hole in my belly,
the incision, the staples
feel like sparks.
You are in the kitchen
pouring coffee
as a blue heron glides
by the window
and disappears
behind the tulip maple.
Later, after the staples
come out, it will flower.
Your footsteps down the hall
excite me. Each time
I see your face feels new.
You stroke my hair,
your fingers graceful
as the blue heron
down the hill
fishing behind the tree.


Chandra Alderman lives in Northeast Ohio where she writes mostly letters and sometimes poetry. She is often seen out in the wild with a camera, spying on nature, everyday life, and writers. Her photography has been featured on chapbooks published by Nightballet Press and Crisis Chronicles Press, and also online at Thirteen Myna Birds and The Octopus Review. More than all of this, she is trying to compose the perfect bowl of soup.