Poetry by Dale Champlin
you sent me letter after letter so sure you were dying but I would have none of it if you were becoming slow of body or speech I didn’t care I thought of you in your vestments seldom or hardly ever let’s get together with your sisters you’d say I’m dying your handwriting still vigorous the way you taught me self sufficiency as strong as swordplay the only pride instilled was pride of argument for argument’s sake I was unwanted and so were you but in occupied Japan beside reeking rice fields fertilized with human excrement you gazed at women small as children conquered widowed at war’s end and back home met my mother as beautiful as cherry blossoms like blood petals spill to the ground
After many years as a graphic designer, illustrator and copywriter, Dale Champlin now devotes most of her time to writing poetry. Her MFA in painting and photography developed her critical eye. Currently she is working on two collections, Leda, and Feathers, a series of monochords about birds. When she’s not writing poetry. As adjunct to the board of the Oregon Poetry Association, she is the editor of the 2017 Verseweavers collection of poetry. Dale is the current director of Conversations With Writers, a monthly presentation by accomplished writers leading spirited discussions about the craft of writing.