Proverbs by Amy Coppe

Like sickness the dread begins
A few sniffles you can easily wipe away
Then symptoms blossom feverishly
The alignment is askew. Gradually
It has become so, until one day
You say—I can’t live with it.
There are three things that stab love
Three things that kill delight
A heart gone astray, denial, and
Absence, absence, absence



Amy Coppe has been published in Heart of Flesh and The Storyteller, among others. In days past, she won the Howard Fox Literary Prize (1985), 2nd Prize, Poets in the Park Contest (1988), and Honorable Mention, Society of Southwestern Authors. She studied with Jean West, attended training through the Capital Christian Writers Fellowship, and took classes from The Writer’s Center. She works as a grant writer, enjoys cooking and spending time with family and two spoiled dogs.