Friday, September 14, 2012



This completes the August 2012 postcard poem madness. I can't believe I used soupçon in two poems in a row! Let us never speak of this again.

There is no end
to the disparate items
that may find their
way into a dog’s day.
Fonzie used to bring home
treasures—rag doll,
dead squirrel, and once
an aluminum chair,
its webbing rotted from
too many summers in the sun.
If only all gifts arrived
with so much love.

Let me owe you kisses
for weeding the garden,
a hug for fixing the faucet,
a million smiles
for being there
every day when I wake up

My garden kicks ass—
mine, mostly, for upsetting
the bugbane when it
got transplanted for
the 3rd time in 3 years.
The strawberries smacked me
for lack of proper soil
and I was sternly spoken to
about the hostas by lobelia
that was rendered all but
invisible by the hosta’s

Still she tells me
to look after myself
  —move the body
  —take your vitamins
  —stop giving away your time
and only now
am I starting to realize
she’s been talking
to herself
and I must discover
my own dialogue

I’m going to put
the “dust” in disturbing
the “moth” in mother
take the “lies” out of realize
stir the “soup” in a soupçon
of word games
that conspire
to keep me
from writ(h)ing!

She thinks she’s turned
a corner
a page
over a new leaf
when she gets the black metal
jewellery holder that would look
so good on the red wall
in her bedroom as far as
the check-out counter
then abandons it with aplomb
scarcely a backwards glance
just the slightest soupçon of regret
the tangled chains
the too-small rings
the brooches she never wears
will just have to settle
for life on a peg board
yelling “Pick me” every time
she walks by

Czeslaw always wondered
why, after his spectacular
performance in the
Men’s racing bike competition
he won because there was
so little resistance on the part
of the bike seat, why,
when he came home,
did everyone start
calling him Pistachio
Thus ends my run of postcards sent for August 2012. As I mentioned in an earlier post, sometimes a card is written in response to a card received. And to go even further back, sometimes a card is written in response to an earlier conversation between the sender and the sendee. Sometimes those conversations happen in real life. Sometime they happen online, say on Facebook, in response to a photo someone puts up. The card that follows is one I received from the always brilliant Kim Clark, who was the lucky recipient of the card directly above. 

August postcarding is hardly fun at all!

A well-tended garden
produces a lot more than pistachios—
pole beans, long English cukes, grease
monkeys, anything
your heart desires.
Just visualize all those organic fruits
and nuts. Seed them inappropriately
for amazing results. The varieties
are endless. One can even
encourage them to grow in bottles—
the shape of things to come.


Nanda said...

"the shape of things to come" - i love it!

Linda Crosfield said...

That's Kim for you. She's brilliant!