Merry Fn Xmas
—Photo by Chris Feldman
—Poetry by Ann Wehrman, Sacramento, CA
—Photos by Chris Feldman and Ann Wehrman
SEARCHING FOR MYSELF
home on break from first year at university
my bedroom claimed by a family member
my alternatives: the attic, front room couch,
or floor
sleeping in the attic struck my fancy
like Sara in A Little Princess
perhaps my secret benefactor might send
his servant
through the attic window
a courageous jump from his nearby home
though logistics made that impossible
our Illinois home stood alone
surrounded by farmland
but I overlooked those facts at eighteen
craving romance and adventure to take me away
blindly seeking myself
in the cluttered, uninsulated attic
I ignored spiders, mice, dust
the attic was my room during visits home
but I did not find myself there
in its dark embrace
finally, shivering on Christmas break
I moved downstairs, closer to my family’s chaos
camped on the dainty living room loveseat
stereo nearby, kitchen, bathroom
fire in the fireplace
Christmas tree glowing despite everything
home on break from first year at university
my bedroom claimed by a family member
my alternatives: the attic, front room couch,
or floor
sleeping in the attic struck my fancy
like Sara in A Little Princess
perhaps my secret benefactor might send
his servant
through the attic window
a courageous jump from his nearby home
though logistics made that impossible
our Illinois home stood alone
surrounded by farmland
but I overlooked those facts at eighteen
craving romance and adventure to take me away
blindly seeking myself
in the cluttered, uninsulated attic
I ignored spiders, mice, dust
the attic was my room during visits home
but I did not find myself there
in its dark embrace
finally, shivering on Christmas break
I moved downstairs, closer to my family’s chaos
camped on the dainty living room loveseat
stereo nearby, kitchen, bathroom
fire in the fireplace
Christmas tree glowing despite everything
Richness
—Photo by Chris Feldman
—Photo by Chris Feldman
UNAWAKENED
Mom and Dad returned from Nana’s funeral
occasion meriting my childhood’s only visit
from Uncle George, Baptist minister
and his son David
I stood powerless
as furious, silent negotiations filled our kitchen—
secret codes, mind-to-mind
telegraphed by Mom’s tense turn aside from
the sink
cigarette stiffly held to her lips
her chiseled profile
Dad’s pale focus
after a while, we moved outside
stood by Mom’s flower garden
slender strip between concrete driveway
and chain link fence, at backyard’s edge
cigarette smoke, power, deceit
drifting on autumn’s cold breeze
immobilized, I stared at David’s glowing cap
of blond hair
alien to my brown
heard someone’s disdainful laugh
“Well, you can’t marry your cousin”
turned away, clumsy
feet slipping in the black earth
Shuttered Windows
—Photo by Chris Feldman
—Photo by Chris Feldman
SELF-PITY
behind shutters
I shield myself from scorching July
try to write, despite neighborhood kids
screaming as they play in the pool
was I ever that crazed
in my unconscious youth
to scream without restraint
whether in pain or joy—
I think I buried it instead
these days, my scars whimper
thin streams of heartache
a decibel level only an animal can hear
loneliness, fear to trust
hidden behind the veil in self-defense
in a world of others’ passion and play
Threat
—Photo by Chris Feldman
—Photo by Chris Feldman
REFUGEE
the noise goes on
all night, all day—
I can’t sleep
it’s cold
there’s no food
so sleeping is all there is to do—
I feel so weak
those stupid fanatics
ruined our holy country
I just want the bombing to stop
want to go home
sit by the fire once again
sip tea, get warm
how can we endure more of this
family in the next tent
lost their baby—
no milk; he just stopped breathing
the stars look near
yet I’ll never reach them
praise Allah, this night will end soon
will I last another day
the noise goes on
all night, all day—
I can’t sleep
it’s cold
there’s no food
so sleeping is all there is to do—
I feel so weak
those stupid fanatics
ruined our holy country
I just want the bombing to stop
want to go home
sit by the fire once again
sip tea, get warm
how can we endure more of this
family in the next tent
lost their baby—
no milk; he just stopped breathing
the stars look near
yet I’ll never reach them
praise Allah, this night will end soon
will I last another day
Red Burst
—Photo by Chris Feldman
—Photo by Chris Feldman
IN SPRING
incessant rain pauses for a day
an hour before sunset
breathe cool spring air
potent with new pollen
buds, wet loam
tender emerald grass
glows clearer than gems
inside cocoons sealed to branches
within swollen buds
under the grass, new life stirs, pushes
rolls to one side, then the other
in blind compulsion
despite pain, awe, trepidation
I reach out, persevere through deterrence
thirst for coming change
incessant rain pauses for a day
an hour before sunset
breathe cool spring air
potent with new pollen
buds, wet loam
tender emerald grass
glows clearer than gems
inside cocoons sealed to branches
within swollen buds
under the grass, new life stirs, pushes
rolls to one side, then the other
in blind compulsion
despite pain, awe, trepidation
I reach out, persevere through deterrence
thirst for coming change
Tree Friend
—Photo by Ann Wehrman
Today’s LittleNip:
TO A TREE FRIEND
—Ann Wehrman
dainty, exquisite
nurtured and trimmed by park staff
you’ve managed to survive in the city
unlike others cleared without hesitation
for power lines, houses, streets, malls
on sidewalk’s edge, I wait for the bus
your branches, choked by mistletoe
delicately stretch above me
their shade protects my eyes, cools me
standing under your fern green, feather wings
_____________________
Collaborators Ann Wehrman and Chris Feldman are back with us today, and that’s a joy. Our thanks to them for their fine work!
Don’t forget Sacramento Poet Laureate Andru Defeye’s poetry series that is happening in Sacramento’s McKinley Park on Sundays throughout May. 12noon by the rose garden. Click on Medusa's UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS (http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html) for details about this and other future poetry events in the NorCal area—and keep an eye on this link and on the Kitchen for happenings that might pop up during the week.
______________________
—Medusa
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