Issue 12: October 2007.
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Home > Issue 12: October 2007 > Poetry
3 poems by Carol Dorf
Holiday Season: Playing Dictionary
(for TD)
peregrinate
verjuice
Alternate mingle of the solstice
party. That sweet drink would distract
pomphloyx
crambe
from endless winter sleet. The way
beneath our waterproof shells we contract—
tensor
ovate
but this is a party, coats hanging up
in the shower, velvet and sequins, black
metol
fildor
shine or gold shimmer. Our hostess lovely
in a white silk slip. There are no cracks
halomancy
outlope
in the shiny tiles to frighten someone's
mother. The end of the evening has begun
sejunge
obconical
to frighten me, and Dictionary doesn't
distract enough. The appearance of fun
recision
unguent
and another kiss to shroud this sullen night
for how old we all look by candlelight.
Hansel's Sister
Late at night, paper
from a brother's party
litters the table.
If the mother were still
alive, she'd nag, or forbid.
The sister watches the street
sparkle in the light of three Santa Clauses
filtered through rain.
She writes her mother a letter,
like the shrink said:
Yellow birds, yellow apples,
and cracked eggs. Mother,
mother where are you?
My brother sleeps his goodbyes.
The lights are a string of beads
broken into night.
She opens the back door,
even though the trash was always his job.
Harvest For My Mother
Sun on my back with a bit of breeze to distract
from heat, and it's not summer not rainy season,
but that perfect moment between, when dry grasses
release their seeds. We could walk forever,
climb into the view, and eat our pomegranate,
suck at red flesh around each seed and see how far we can spit
the white pip. Together we've walked out of Hades,
and are worn out from that talk, so let's pay attention
to the sun and the hawk circling the canyon,
the hammering of a woodpecker in that old oak.
Each seed tells a new story, as we suck the silence.
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