Green Witch
“Holy Mother of God,” he
says, when I open the door
of my condo, and he ducks
to miss the curving branches
of a gigantic avocado bush
aproned with fruit, the leafy
embrace of an orange tree,
a cart crowded with mulched
pots of romaine lettuce, and
that’s just what’s growing
in my sunny entryway.
The Artist
As soon as he sets his
canvas bag stuffed
with art supplies on
my kitchen table,
a calico cat jumps
in to wrestle with the
silk of a sable brush,
the bag tipping over
like a sail-less ship,
which knocks a plump
tube of oil paint on
the floor and prompts
me to say, “I hope
you like cats because
I have five more.”
Tea
When he takes that first
sip of spearmint tea, the
snap of fresh leaves grown
in my garden, dried, then
brewed beneath the fierce
smile of Sol, chilled, then
sweetened with organic
honey seduces his throat
like no other on the first
day of summer, and he
says, “Okay, all the cats
and plants were worth it.”
BIO: Laura Stamps is a Pagan novelist and poet living in South Carolina. Her fiction and poetry have been nominated for seven Pushcarts and appeared in many literary journals, including Miracle Magazine, The Tophat Raven, Boston Poetry Magazine, Verse-Virtual, Dead Snakes, and The Poetry Jar. She enjoys creating experimental forms for her prose poems, blurring the line between fiction and poetry. http://www.linkedin.com/in/
“Holy Mother of God,” he
says, when I open the door
of my condo, and he ducks
to miss the curving branches
of a gigantic avocado bush
aproned with fruit, the leafy
embrace of an orange tree,
a cart crowded with mulched
pots of romaine lettuce, and
that’s just what’s growing
in my sunny entryway.
The Artist
As soon as he sets his
canvas bag stuffed
with art supplies on
my kitchen table,
a calico cat jumps
in to wrestle with the
silk of a sable brush,
the bag tipping over
like a sail-less ship,
which knocks a plump
tube of oil paint on
the floor and prompts
me to say, “I hope
you like cats because
I have five more.”
Tea
When he takes that first
sip of spearmint tea, the
snap of fresh leaves grown
in my garden, dried, then
brewed beneath the fierce
smile of Sol, chilled, then
sweetened with organic
honey seduces his throat
like no other on the first
day of summer, and he
says, “Okay, all the cats
and plants were worth it.”
BIO: Laura Stamps is a Pagan novelist and poet living in South Carolina. Her fiction and poetry have been nominated for seven Pushcarts and appeared in many literary journals, including Miracle Magazine, The Tophat Raven, Boston Poetry Magazine, Verse-Virtual, Dead Snakes, and The Poetry Jar. She enjoys creating experimental forms for her prose poems, blurring the line between fiction and poetry. http://www.linkedin.com/in/
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