The Last Day of National Poetry Month

In honor of the last day of National Poetry Month, I present a handful of poems...

Ocean Altar

We must
gather up
pieces of the beach
and make an altar.

Abalone shells
and sea weed,
pieces of the boat
that wrecked
on the rocks,
nails and screws
and boards
and the engine
and the bullet
that shot the captain.

©JEF 1985


The Widow's House

The widow lives in
spidery sticks
and crab apples
split with age.

A maze of memorabilia,
music boxes that play
Irish jigs or
funeral marches
sit on hundreds of tables,
round, knee-high,
spun with ancient,
yellowed doilies.

Chipped china cups
hold brews of
pine nuts and birch bark
or fern spores and lichen.

The vultures in the basement
hide hunched and still,
leftovers of a
taxidermied marriage.

©JEF 1986


My Thing

It longs to be
in the midst of things,
to let loose its
heart-stopping vibrato
but, fearing for its safety,
I make it stay in a box.
Sometimes I hear it
crying in
the middle of the night.
On sunny days
I take it outside.
It sits quivering,
blinking and raw,
still pretty,
still pink,
still wondering.

©JEF 1993


April is National Poetry Month!

http://www.poets.org/