Wednesday, May 09, 2012

Poetic Salsa

Tangled Wool
—Photo by Taylor Graham

—Taylor Graham, Placerville

In the vanity's top drawer,
nothing drew me like her perfume bottle—
emptied long before, not a whiff
of fragrance left—milky glass, topped
with a grinning face,

wide eyes bright, a topknot soft
as wool. Golliwog—not PC, these days.
I'd run my fingers through 
its mop of hair silkier than kitty-fur.
I'd never seen a face so pensive.

I put the empty bottle back
before she noticed it was gone,
and sat under the persimmon tree,
watching how shadows
darkened soft as daydream fluff.

—Photo by Taylor Graham


—Patricia Hickerson, Davis

Mom’s son
watched the car pull out
now she’s gone
sped up the stairs
looked through her box
pink satin pouch
reached for it
pear-shaped stone sheltered by baguettes
engagement ring
used to be Mom’s
now his
meant for him
time of need
the jeweler offered $1100
done deal
headed for sweet oblivion
Happy Mom’s Day!

It is often said people nowadays treat their pets like children
I wish one could—for instance say 
"hey cats do your share of the work around here
Here's a list of chores that need to be done while I'm gone
And to help cover costs such as your food and vet bills
also go out to find jobs, rather than lie around sunning yourselves
oh yeah clean up if you puke, cough up a hairball, 
or miss the litterbox...
better yet, learn how to use the toilet (and clean it too, 
rather than try to drink from it)"
—Michelle Kunert, Sacramento

—Michelle Kunert

Drones fly over
fifty countries
where the US
is not even at war.


Drones kill people
by remote control.

Drones also kill American citizens.

It doesn't matter
to the US military.

No charges, no jury
no judge.

Just a CIA hit list.

Drones will be used in the USA.

Who will they decide to track?
Anyone today can become
a terrorist suspect.

Even those who openly oppose

Don't worry, they say.
They will be used only
to spy.

Eyes in the sky.

Flying bugs will land
to listen to what's in
your own home.

Perhaps detonate!
Right where there are

Spying and death
by flying robots.

One of the biggest
horrors ever.

Never conceived of,
even by George Orwell.


Declared illegal
by the United Nations.

—Photo by Joyce Odam, Sacramento

—Kim Clyde, Sacramento

Grass jumps up
Reaching for the sky
On this brilliant day

It has grown 4 inches since the rain
6 in some places
It is the emerald green of an
Irish meadow—

It dreads my coming
In garden boots
With trimmings bin
In tow
I sense that it knows
It’s crew-cut time again.


Thanks to today's contributors for riffs on our Seed of the Week (Mom's Jewelry Box) and other topics, including our current Form to Fiddle With (see below). Pat Hickerson calls her poem a "downer for Mother's Day, and a true story". And we have another new photo album on Medusa's Facebook page from Michelle Kunert, this one featuring photos from last Monday night's !X performance. Check it out.

You're going to have to make some choices tonight, poetry-reading-wise. Scroll on over to our blue board at the right of this column and see what I mean—it's a very busy night!


Today's LittleNip: 

—Taylor Graham 

Deep green poblanos roasted,
peeled and seeded, stuffed
with cheese, then fried in egg-wrap,
served with frijoles
and salsa cruda—



Tangled Moon
—Photo by Katy Brown, Davis