Carving Your Heart

Louise

—Poetry by Louise Robertson, Columbus, OH

—Photos Courtesy of Public Domain

 

 

 

A BED TO LIE IN

When I take the kids to the backyard,
where I’ve mowed, pulled up the poison sumac,
and collected stones the size of choking
hazards, we lay ourselves under the tree
laughing. I point to the leaves
and shadows, but they’re small and instead
act out the usual soap operas. Flowers are picked,
dandelions strung together. They stomp
and poke the dirt with sticks. The baby
pops an overlooked stone
into his mouth; it clicks against his
eight teeth—rubies for a ferryman. Bread and
bologna are abandoned on the ground. The raven
flies aways. The aforementioned dirt
frosts their hands and shoes and faces.

 

 

 

 

 

HEAVEN

Burning is the mood.
Not sure what the neighbors
did for their fire
pit, but I spent November
picking up
broken bricks, thrown
rocks, thumb-sized stones and
made a circle. It’s March and I drag
out the beach chairs, tear up
take-out pizza boxes
—excellent tinder
—excellent kindling.

I’d been saving
pieces of fall-down
branches in the gazebo.
Surrounded by morning sun,
leaf blower buzz from across
the alley and with the highway
rush at low tide, I inhale
left-over ash.

 

 

 

 

 

THE CAT

Green-eyed, and black and white,
she slithers against the railing,
and lingers in front of our door.
I think “Who do you love?” and

she slithers against the railing.
But I ask “Who loves you?” while
I think “Who do you love and
who shouldn’t you have loved?”

But I ask “Who loves you?” while
she peers inside.
Who shouldn’t she have loved?
We have too many living here already.

She peers inside.
Maybe she could join us where
we have too many living already.
Another cat could love and be loved.

Maybe she could join us here where
—green-eyed and black and white—
another cat could love and be loved
and linger in front of our door.

 

 

 

 

 

HOW TO WRITE A SHAKESPEAREAN SONNET

You Google “Shakespearean Sonnet.” Get
astray your task by the list of what else 


people ask: “what’s the stock market’s best bet?”


and here also “when is it that dry ice melts?”
Step two: remind yourself of school and days


when you could not be the self you wanted.
Step three: take in the coffee brewed and plays


you read for class, how Will’s were aged and haunted
by folks still known and unknown. Here’s a man,
Othello, who beats his breast as stone and yes,
he’s one you’ve met, who, with jealousy’s plan
more jealous is made by smile and by dress.
He carves your heart apart with mind and lip,


reminds you of one guy and pain’s old grip.

____________________

Today’s L(onger)Nip:

GRATITUDE LISTS
—Louise Robertson

Instead of writing poems, I


write gratitude lists. One day,


it’s “my job.” The next, “my health.”


And so on. If I don’t pay


attention, the habits


of poetry creep in. I’ll write,

"the furious heads


on the trees” or “that ragged hairline” or

“a milk crate and gravel."


I tried to thank anxiety,


which sours the milk


so often. “You make me try”


was the best I could do. It is


way easier to make these lists


than to mine for


profundities and trauma. “Thank you city


water department for taking


online payments” was how I began


on Thursday. “Thank you


stiff chair. Thank you,


socks.” One might think I’ll


get around to being grateful


for everything. But 


I am too cowardly for that. 


“Thank you, foot pain.”


“Thank you, droughts.”


“Thank you, cigarettes


and emphysema and my


father’s hollow,


wooden chest in the ICU.”

____________________

Another new voice joins us in the Kitchen this morning! Poet Louise Robertson serves as the marketing director for Writers' Block Poetry Night in Columbus, OH, where she lives with her family. She counts among her many publications, awards, and honors: a jar of homemade pickles that she received for running a workshop, a 2018 Pushcart nomination (Open: A Journal of Arts and Letters), and several Best of the Net nominations. Welcome to the Kitchen, Louise, and don’t be a stranger!

 

Today from 1-5pm, Sac. Poetry Alliance (www.sacramentopoetryalliance.com) presents Poetry in Locke, featuring readers from the brand-new anthology, Voices 2021: An Offering of Fruit (Cold River Press, www.coldriverpress.com) in Locke Community Gardens. See last Tuesday’s post (medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2021/09/midnight-pen-and-paper.html) for further details.

___________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

Louise

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.

Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world, including
that which was previously-published.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!