USASilva Merjanian is a poet residing in Southern California with her husband and two sons.  Silva is widely respected by her peers and has a rapidly growing following.  She finds inspiration in both the majesty of daily life and the unexpected intricacies of what may appear mundane. Uncoil a Night, her first volume of poetry is soon to be published.

Soul Mates

On Alzheimer’s

She wakes on pillows feathered with her borrowed rib
familiar hand heavy now with years on her hip
warm breath tattoos vows on her neck
soft light of streetlamp casts memories
on matrimonial embrace

dawn not yet in sight
she dims her mind a moment late
a restless heart swings from moon rays
chasing contrails of a spark

can a soul mate last a lifetime
fuel passion past aging nights
linger beyond a dried palette
beyond love songs without a pulse
hummed through only the memory
of parted lips wet with a pledge

she feels a hand slide to her waist
draw her closer
a kiss on her neck
a murmured question
are you awake?
she says no
but she will always stay
cradled in more than meets that fire

a night still tightly wrapped
around intertwined limbs and tangled lives
she holds his fragile mind in her lap
and gently blows on embers of their love….


El Baile

It was a dance
yet it was not

if I get lost in my own words
with a poem and you
follow my eyes
they form new ones
as moments fall
and turn
into songs
at her heels

it was a dance
or perhaps not

she stamped her feet
fingers twirled
pulled on fibers of air
or was it my breath?
there was a gasp

frills of her skirt flickered
moved curtain of time a crack
pulse rhymed with throb of centuries
of anguish
love and hate
ghosts of beheaded and crowned
blood of bulls still wet on the ground
that of Mayor
a plaza that burned its sins and built new ones
it could have been condensed tears
playing tricks under the light

she stamped her feet
crushed white heat of emotions
hers and now mine
hushed defiance dripping from lusty hips
a dance
as if baptized in blood

it was a dance
or perhaps not

her eyes never once left the ground
never once let you inside
she danced her pain
fused to her bones while in a womb
her body dressed
her spirit bare
it seemed she fought
and lost her soul
just as I stretched my own
picked end of thread from fingertips that burned a night

I live a dance
or perhaps not
it could be grace lost in life


Fallen From Grace

You cross my mind on rainy days

in a drop that rolls down the window pane
it leaves only a salty trace
on which my spirit scrapes

you cross my mind on rainy days

in drips I hear from the (rain ) gutter
like words bought on sale
woven into perfect patterns
oozing down honey and bile
in a puddle

you cross my mind on rainy days

in remnants of a friendship washing off the pavement

I shall presume that it was worth
to try to catch them before the drain

bartered shoulder to catch a breath
then again
who does one trust for rented strength to exhale
a cross
a sermon on intimacy and trust
a kiss that feels like a slap
a slap that feels like a kiss
a Louis Vuitton
a cabernet
negotiations on heaven and hell
and yes
words purchased on sale with no returns

you cross my mind
in leaves that bend under the weight of the rain
as I try to remember the sweet voice of a friend

I see my fingers reach out to touch your breath
and wish you well from where I stand

alone and strong
hanging yearnings on a clothsline in the rain



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  1. eikenlaan says:

    Lovely Silva, I especially loved El Baile but all three have a unique style 🙂 Maire x

  2. Amy Barry says:

    Silva, a joy to read these lovely work!



  3. I particularly loved that last line of ‘Fallen From Grace’.

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