Cleaning the Attic

Again – this is a poem in transition – I started it a few weeks ago on a very cold day. Today it is cold again and I revisited it, working on the warm part of the poem. I am still not happy with the ending or the title but here it is – in process….. Every third year Or When the snow flies off the trees Like white crows Disturbed by wind or intruders bursting up and out; When the doorknob frosts on the inside And bath steam Clings to the window freezing into Tiny rivers meandering always up, Tributaries of ice sparkling like giant snowflakes Caught in the ice age of the storm, In the dark days of winter when shadows Are long at noon, In the blue moon of January I dream of myself as a young woman Walking through damp moss In bare feet. A thicket lit with crepuscular rays; spotlights on fairy rings. The enchanted forest breathes warm soft exhalations Mixing with the must of old paper And India ink. Letters crack at fold lines Splitting the sentences declaring unending love Every day a picnic on the mountain With sardines and red wine Hard cheese on crusty bread cut with pocket knives. The sun burns our skin Frosty paintings melt Running down the glass in drops That sizzle on the wood stove The fire bright and hot Cats sleeping at our feet.

Published!

The newest issue of Four and Twenty – an online poetry journal – came out today and my poem “Do Fish Dream” is one of the poems they chose.  You can see the journal here:  Four and Twenty

Poetry Challenge

This afternoon, I got a poetry challenge from my lovely Aunt Stephie – a poet and artist all around wonderful human being. Having had the gauntlet thrown at me, here is my answer to the title “Lost” written in 30 minutes…..

Lost

The last I saw the green ones
they were on the kitchen table near
the red cup with the peace sign
full of cold coffee.

I noticed them
because I knew I would need them
later to thread the sewing machine.

It’s really the progressives that I want though
so that I can see the expiration date
on the milk that got pushed to the back
of the refrigerator
and still identify whose dog is currently eating
the compost while I’m looking out the window.

I remember leaving the pair of tortoiseshells
in my pocket so that I would always have
them if I couldn’t find the others
but that was last week
and the wash has been done since then.