Kelley White- Three Poems

Workshopping a Poem in the Woods

 

float on sound

squirrel squawk

crow scold

chika dee dee dees

cat’s bell

mosquito drone

 

can that be traffic

so faraway

that the wind forgets us?

 

mourning doves

peepers

wind

so much more interesting

than any of us

than any of our words

 

 

 

Why was Autumn born in December?

 

and her sister June was born in May? What

was their mother trying to remember?

Single? Married? Or was she called slut?

(I must not say that about another

woman. Forgive me sisters, we know she

was forced. She lived a life without choices.)

Did she want to repay her own mother

for naming her April? (even though we

celebrate her birthday, raise our voices

on the fourth of July?) We know her whole

family can’t count, can’t add, can’t even read

a calendar. We must bless them, poor souls.

We’re family, named Winter all year, it’s said.

 

 

We’ll Burn that Bridge when we Come to It

 

                        “it made for a long and lonely life, this business of getting things right”

Barbara Kingsolver, Prodigal Summer

 

Getting you on the phone is harder than getting naked pictures of the pope.

But I like the pointy hat. The smoke rising in the background, scent

of marshmallows fallen in the fire, the crispy black edges,

brown perfection, gooey white hearts. Music

on the tongue. Singing sugar. Butter talking

flimsy and cheap. If you go down to Henry’s farm

you better bring your chainsaw

and some grease. I hear Sam felled some trees there

‘cept a couple done fell and broke

his knees. A fine Buttercup Mountain after

noon. Only he held onto his chainsaw. You can leave

yours home. Lessen you got two

hands. You do. You know he couldn’t pour piss out of a boot

if the instructions was written on the heel. Running that tractor motor

when he’s calling for help. Wicked loud.

You know Geraldine gots a Corvette? Say its

stripped right now, but it’s gonna be pearl white, charcoal

rally stripe with lavender shadowing. She been

collecting parts right along, lost sleep

over more’n one auction. Wicked cheap.

 

Hey! Remember Lolly, Dolly, and Molly, the Episcopalian hootchie-

kootchie girls? On your mother’s side? Yeah, flimsy

and cheap. No, not those. The red heads. With the big

feet. Oh, the Loneliness of Dogs! And their little red

hats. A Celebration of Sausage Gravy!

I’m one of the Cole girls. I’ll learn the lingo.

I’m wear the red dress of progress and humility.

I’ll clear the bucket. But honey, don’t tell Bill, Buck, and Cash

Money: when I walked through the forest of life

I picked up a bent twig.

 

a bio note: Kelley White would really like to jump into Lake Winnipesaukee today to escape several kinds of heat.