* * *
—Poetry by Margaret Coombs, Manitowoc, WI
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy
of Margaret Coombs
KOHLRABI
When I bite into the strange root
I found growing in my garden it tastes
like the summer I turned twenty-two
and lived alone for a week before
my roommates arrived. Every night I devoured
a frugal supper: steamed veggies
from the farmer’s market. I was in love,
hadn’t yet shared my new number with him.
We were at the back border of a summer fling.
If I let go, I’d quickly recover. Or
we could face fall together, nestle
in deepening darkness, count calendar days
till the date he left for the job he accepted
before he met me. I waited another week,
then a third. I heard that he borrowed a car,
drove past my former lodgings, sought me
on the street. Oh love, oh lover.
How exquisite the power before the leap.
When I bite into the strange root
I found growing in my garden it tastes
like the summer I turned twenty-two
and lived alone for a week before
my roommates arrived. Every night I devoured
a frugal supper: steamed veggies
from the farmer’s market. I was in love,
hadn’t yet shared my new number with him.
We were at the back border of a summer fling.
If I let go, I’d quickly recover. Or
we could face fall together, nestle
in deepening darkness, count calendar days
till the date he left for the job he accepted
before he met me. I waited another week,
then a third. I heard that he borrowed a car,
drove past my former lodgings, sought me
on the street. Oh love, oh lover.
How exquisite the power before the leap.
—Photo by Geoge Eiermann
SHE IS A HARD NUT
Do you know there is a woman
who lies on a soft rug,
warming her hands
in the sunlight
that flows through the window?
She holds a thick book to her face.
Flecks of its brown leather binding
crumble onto her body.
That woman is a knot not wanting,
maybe wanting someday
to be unraveled.
But now her core is taut.
She is the seed of a horse chestnut tree.
She has a high haughtiness.
Don’t crack her.
—Photo by Jorge Fernandez Salas
A MEMORY OF WINTER
He dies dramatically
and quickly in a cable car
hanging in the Andes.
Something cardiovascular
strikes. The pain
does not last long
before he flies, a condor
of high altitudes, over
stone peaks. Uncle!
his goddaughters cry,
because they love him.
Passing through a portal,
he becomes the memory
of winter so that humans
won’t forget. He meditates
on austerity, glaciers, the wind.
Preferring the tropics, lonely,
he remembers
a winter girlfriend,
how quickly the heat rose
between them. Ice
and passion. Danger and warmth.
He balances these thoughts
on the edge of a sheer drop-off,
watching the thaw draw near
so much faster than expected.
—Photo by Margaret Coombs
MY WINTER SLIPPERS
are foot-kayaks
covered
in a Scandinavian pattern—
white abstract designs
geometric snowflakes
floating
in a berry-red background
next to a strip
of midnight sky
they open at the back—
flat-bottomed boats
I shuffle my feet into
they carry me
at night to the lake
of my dreams where I dive
into strange depths
they wait at the cold shore
while I explore
night, murk, darkness
alone
at times they float above me
rescue rafts
for when I wish to stay
past returning
___________________
Today’s LittleNip:
THE WANDERING ROOMMATE
—Margaret Coombs
The robot cleans while I sit
with feet up and my husband is out
shopping. The robot’s work
is excellent. I may never vacuum
again. Still, it feels strange to assign
this labor daily to a self-propelled
machine. Thank you, Roomie, I try
to remember to say, using a name
we two humans created
because gratitude is necessary;
sentience not.
___________________
—Medusa, welcoming Peggy Coombs and her fine poetry back to the Kitchen~and thanks for finding the photos to go with it!
Margaret (Peggy) Coombs
A reminder that
Poets & Writers of the Sierra Foothills
features William O’Daly, Bob Stanley
and musician Terry Cobb in Camino
today, 2pm. For info about this
and other future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
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.
Find previous four-or-so posts by scrolling down
under today; or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column; or find previous poets
by typing the name of the poet or poem
into the little beige box at the top
left-hand side of today’s post; or go to
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom of
the blue column at the right
to find the date you want.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
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—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
Poets & Writers of the Sierra Foothills
features William O’Daly, Bob Stanley
and musician Terry Cobb in Camino
today, 2pm. For info about this
and other future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
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.
Find previous four-or-so posts by scrolling down
under today; or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column; or find previous poets
by typing the name of the poet or poem
into the little beige box at the top
left-hand side of today’s post; or go to
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom of
the blue column at the right
to find the date you want.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
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—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
