It was years ago that I first read the engaging writings of Miranda Beeson.  Time has not diminished my interest, nor has her work gotten stale. Miranda continues to find fresh greens in her poetic salads of life.

— Beacon Poetry Editor Billy Hands


by Miranda Beeson

The beds were terrible & I was cold
my friend Jean sighs in pentameter so
I just have to write it down. Jean’s 90
—a salty dog & given to whittling
painful emotion out of words, while I
am trying to coax emotion into them.
Never quite sure how, if I can, or will.
Meanwhile the field is all tall dry stalks,
hacked here & there—a metaphor for sure.
(I was sure my heart would never mend,
& here it is saying—can we please try
again?) We all want something more than
what we’ve got. I must remember to tell
Jean the bed is warm & the word is love.

Miranda Beeson’s most recent collection of poems is Wildlife. She has taught creative writing in schools & libraries all over the East End & at Stony Brook University. She is currently at work on a book-length sonnet cycle entitled FIELD. XIV is one of those sonnets. More about Miranda at  & @beesonmiranda_

The Beacon is accepting poetry submissions at

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