—Poetry by Ann Wehrman, Sacramento, CA
—Photos by Chris Feldman
MUSHROOMS
white caps like Chinese straw hats
new, still soft as satin
pale rose centers, tiny breasts
lean left, right like gossiping schoolgirls
lying on dew-soaked grass
I see the stalks below
emerged from grassy soil
a day in the sun—delirious short life
white caps like Chinese straw hats
new, still soft as satin
pale rose centers, tiny breasts
lean left, right like gossiping schoolgirls
lying on dew-soaked grass
I see the stalks below
emerged from grassy soil
a day in the sun—delirious short life
GUINEVERE
green gossamer sewn with firestones
sleeves trail beyond soft hands
wedding ring’s gems
mirrored in the diadem around my brow
hair long, as you like it
gold in sun’s caress
from our room, I watch
you spar with him, all in sport
swords ring, eyes flash
your tunic sodden under armor
cradled in joint awareness
I can no more ignore him
than the air I must breath
that fans the flame
green gossamer sewn with firestones
sleeves trail beyond soft hands
wedding ring’s gems
mirrored in the diadem around my brow
hair long, as you like it
gold in sun’s caress
from our room, I watch
you spar with him, all in sport
swords ring, eyes flash
your tunic sodden under armor
cradled in joint awareness
I can no more ignore him
than the air I must breath
that fans the flame
THE GAZELLE
Claudia has the legs of a gazelle
her abs are washboard tight, her gray eyes flash
and she can leap as far as Gabriel
her mother is a dancer, too, quite natch
they speak in French and studied with George B.
she says that in LA, I’d earn big cash
and in her eyes, it’s only love I see
her warm-up’s set to music that I know--
I’d swear my sister Jane is here with me!
the classic songs, the voice from years ago
that sounds so like that boy we both desired
but as I dance, I feel my heartbeat slow
the mirror lets me know that I’m a liar
I’m over fifty, fat, and in a leotard
and neither Jane nor Claudia sports my spare tire
inside, my need to dance—to love—burns strong
yet in disgust, I turn my eyes away
although I know that jealousy is wrong
outside, I wander home to douse my shame
I’ll have no one—I don’t need to play the game
and yet my heart still wants love, all the same
Claudia has the legs of a gazelle
her abs are washboard tight, her gray eyes flash
and she can leap as far as Gabriel
her mother is a dancer, too, quite natch
they speak in French and studied with George B.
she says that in LA, I’d earn big cash
and in her eyes, it’s only love I see
her warm-up’s set to music that I know--
I’d swear my sister Jane is here with me!
the classic songs, the voice from years ago
that sounds so like that boy we both desired
but as I dance, I feel my heartbeat slow
the mirror lets me know that I’m a liar
I’m over fifty, fat, and in a leotard
and neither Jane nor Claudia sports my spare tire
inside, my need to dance—to love—burns strong
yet in disgust, I turn my eyes away
although I know that jealousy is wrong
outside, I wander home to douse my shame
I’ll have no one—I don’t need to play the game
and yet my heart still wants love, all the same
WORRY
never ends
wring it out like a washcloth
quickly heavy again
with dirty water
mental
emotional
anguish, distress
pace the room
sit motionless, abstracted
all is pallid, flavorless, cold
I’ve forgotten my job
have nothing to say
can’t write
maybe see a counselor
explain the same issues
new face, caring heart
I sip coffee
wash the dishes
pent-up feelings
careful not to break
anything is useless
lie in bed, face to the wall
never ends
wring it out like a washcloth
quickly heavy again
with dirty water
mental
emotional
anguish, distress
pace the room
sit motionless, abstracted
all is pallid, flavorless, cold
I’ve forgotten my job
have nothing to say
can’t write
maybe see a counselor
explain the same issues
new face, caring heart
I sip coffee
wash the dishes
pent-up feelings
careful not to break
anything is useless
lie in bed, face to the wall
(prev. pub. in Medusa's Kitchen, 9/7/20)
PUCCINI HAD IT RIGHT
Zoom meeting started
I signed on, still in pajama pants
though decent from the waist up, hair combed
but I’d neglected to place the screen at my back
thereby revealing my sloppy, unmade bed
quickly I disabled the video
but not quickly enough—my secret was out
perhaps it’s easier than usual to be lax during a pandemic
relegated to a hermit’s life in my studio
yet like Puccini’s poet, my humble garret is enough
celebrate love, poetry,
and walking in the sun to the corner and back
Zoom meeting started
I signed on, still in pajama pants
though decent from the waist up, hair combed
but I’d neglected to place the screen at my back
thereby revealing my sloppy, unmade bed
quickly I disabled the video
but not quickly enough—my secret was out
perhaps it’s easier than usual to be lax during a pandemic
relegated to a hermit’s life in my studio
yet like Puccini’s poet, my humble garret is enough
celebrate love, poetry,
and walking in the sun to the corner and back
BEST TIME OF THE DAY
long past midnight, I slump at my desk
back will pay for this tomorrow
mind gradually clears as cool night air
caresses my shoulders
day’s work, emails, grading
fall from my eyes like dying leaves
stark branches remain
black, damp in light rain
petrichor fills the room
digital page before me warmly invites
door of my heart swings open
I jump in
long past midnight, I slump at my desk
back will pay for this tomorrow
mind gradually clears as cool night air
caresses my shoulders
day’s work, emails, grading
fall from my eyes like dying leaves
stark branches remain
black, damp in light rain
petrichor fills the room
digital page before me warmly invites
door of my heart swings open
I jump in
Today’s LittleNip:
“And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
______________________
Thanks to Ann Wehrman and Chris Feldman for another fine collaboration on this first day of October!
Tonight on Zoom at 8pm, Susan Kelly-DeWitt and Shawn Pittard will read on Poetry in Davis; see ucdavisdss.zoom.us/my/andyojones/. Info: www.facebook.com/events/4476860245689417/.
Earlier this evening, at 5pm, U.S. Poet Laureate Joy Harjo will be in conversation with environmental writer Terry Tempest Williams, discussing the first comprehensive Norton Anthology of Native Nations Poetry, ed. by Joy Harjo and called When the Light of the World was Subdued, Our Songs Came Through: A Norton Anthology of Native Nations Poetry (www.amazon.com/Light-World-Subdued-Songs-Through/dp/0393356809/). Be sure to register at www.poetrypromise.org/joy-harjo/.
_______________________
—Medusa
“And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
______________________
Thanks to Ann Wehrman and Chris Feldman for another fine collaboration on this first day of October!
Tonight on Zoom at 8pm, Susan Kelly-DeWitt and Shawn Pittard will read on Poetry in Davis; see ucdavisdss.zoom.us/my/andyojones/. Info: www.facebook.com/events/4476860245689417/.
Earlier this evening, at 5pm, U.S. Poet Laureate Joy Harjo will be in conversation with environmental writer Terry Tempest Williams, discussing the first comprehensive Norton Anthology of Native Nations Poetry, ed. by Joy Harjo and called When the Light of the World was Subdued, Our Songs Came Through: A Norton Anthology of Native Nations Poetry (www.amazon.com/Light-World-Subdued-Songs-Through/dp/0393356809/). Be sure to register at www.poetrypromise.org/joy-harjo/.
_______________________
—Medusa
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!
