the e-dict

…from the imagination of Erika Anne Randall

Category: Love Poems for Friends

organ donors

Yesterday I had tea, iced soy chai, to be specific, with an Episcopalian priest whose heart, too, was broken into pieces that, when laid out on the table before us, looked so similar to my own that I think I may have picked up a few of her shards and she, a few of mine. […]

no great heights

From where I sit, with my French lace curtains placed just right, I can see only tree tops and sky. I see the corner of my deck and can imagine it a balcony that a moon would like to visit, a suitor, wild-eyed and wanton, come only for me. Since I cannot write truth these […]


I do not want the things that make a good poem a dead mother a dead bird a dead son this one word, divorce, has enough death in it (enough guilt  enough failure enough blame) to contrive at least one hundred mediocre sonnets of despair   I do not want better, more fetid ingredients words […]

junk drawer

  Every house needs one place where anything and everything belongs the scissors right at home next to the stamps the birthday candles and the travel corkscrew the electrical tape the paperclips the bundle of sage all thrown in together in a rare and thrilling rebellion against order and hierarchy   I remember my Nana’s […]

love letters from myself

Dear Erika, I know that you are suffering, but let me tell you, your skin looks amazing from all that salt water. I see it tightening your pores and I want to thank you for washing yourself clean. Love, 64 year-old Erika


currency-for ezra   Inside the small globe of your world snow falls down around you While here, in my miniature bubble, 1300 miles away, leaves of yellow and amber blow and spill when shaken by the wind or your memory   The black squirrels are busy No time for jumping in leaf piles or playing […]

love letter for a friend who lives on the moon

Dear One, This is a hand written letter. The stamp is of a woman holding a red umbrella on a beach somewhere. There are newly yellowed leaves pressed inside the pages. The paper is handmade. The ink comes from a quill pen. There are tear stains blurring some of the words but you will still […]

to an old friend

Dear Erika, I just wanted to let you know that I see you and hear the distance between your voice and your heart. I know you planted forget-me-nots in the spring to remind you of that backcountry of Alaska but I am here to remind you of the backcountry of your own wild spirit. I remember […]


  egret   This morning, in my cloud colored room with the slanted walls, I wake to the birds on the rooftops of the grey Pittsburgh skyline. They do not know I am listening and still they sing. Not everything has to do with me. But you do. You are the egret troubling my quiet pool, the […]

for sara

Foot fetish   –for sara written hastily in 5 mins, while inspired     I have never known the curve and grace of an inner arch like I know yours. architects have drawn them perfectly, using tools of the trade to find the necessary rise and fall, the exact right moment of the keystone. tourists, […]