Saturday, February 13, 2021

Five Roses

Five roses in a jar
On the kitchen table
Layers of petals
Skirts and frills
Make shadows
Like folds of flesh

Four of them are
Antique white
Like an old 
Wedding dress
Tinged with
The gray-pink
Of silver polish

The fifth is paler
More ivory than blush
The color
Of old paper &
Pear-shaped
Instead of round

What is written
In the cells
Of these blooms
Whose blood
Is on their thorns

The eye is drawn
To difference
It calls everything
Into question



Since we're spending so much time at home these days due to Covid, I've been putting extra effort into making it a nice place, including buying flowers for the kitchen table every week. And it's important to remember the people who grew, picked, and packaged them. 

Sunday, February 7, 2021

Eggshell Poem

Each egg is a gift
Pushed out with pain
And squawking

I dress them up
With salt and cheese
Savor each soft bite

The shells are red, tan
Coral, cream
Even blue

Together, they pass
The life they might have had
To me

A little detour
On their way
To something new 



I get these chicken eggs at Big E's supermarket in Easthampton, MA. They're from Cold Spring Ranch in Southampton, MA and a sticker on the carton calls them "happy hillbilly eggs." They're delicious and, as you can see, beautiful. The different colors remind me that each one came from an individual.