Live Encounters Poetry & Writing 16th Anniversary Volume Four
November- December 2025
Four Seasons, poems by Michael Minassian.
Four Seasons
I found a message
you left behind,
a map of the countryside
cut into four pieces.
On each one you wrote
summer, winter, spring, and fall,
then crossed out the places
we visited together.
I struggled to interpret
the symbolism or understand
the tangle of directions
you had rearranged.
You once complained
I chose back roads at random,
while you pretended to explore
new places from the past.
The suitcase you left
in the driveway was empty,
another false clue
as if I was a detective
while you were the prime
suspect who had disappeared.
A few weeks later,
I received a letter in the mail
bearing a fake return address—
an empty envelope
full of silence and the scent
of a pond approaching winter.
Learning to Fly
When I was a child
I collected feathers—
blue jays, robins, ducks,
sparrows, cardinals, and gulls,
until my mother told me
to clean them out,
claiming they made her sneeze.
Can she really be
my mother, I thought,
if she’s allergic to birds?
The last time I saw
her lifeless body
in the nursing home,
I wondered if she
had lifted off the earth,
soundless and alone.
Later, in the park,
I watch a flock
of blackbirds walk
in a solemn line
like monks waiting
for bread and wine.
How restless I felt,
devoid of feathers,
a naked stillness
around me,
the moon above
in silent flight.
The Raw Egg of Morning
In a dream, I see myself,
on a beach watching gulls
circle just off shore.
The dream unscrolls
like a dog’s tongue.
I lose track of where I am—
an island appears,
palm trees, and grass huts
dot the landscape,
wildflowers open their petals
and bees escape, drunk
with nectar and pine sap.
I think I see a hummingbird,
but, no, it is a drone
shaped like a wasp’s jaw
hovering just above sleep—
An antique map sheds its borders,
artificial boundaries between tapestries
peel like an orange rind, eyelids flutter,
a momentary bridge linking sleep,
the cinema of the subconscious,
the world waiting,
then wide awake.
© Michael Minassian
Michael Minassian is a Contributing Editor for Verse-Virtual, an online poetry journal. His poetry collections Time is Not a River, Morning Calm, A Matter of Timing and Jack Pays a Visit are all available on Amazon. His newest collection 1000 Pieces of Time has just been released by Sheila-Na-Gig Publications. For more information: https://michaelminassian.com