Mulled Wine
Kassel, Germany 1997
By the light of post new year sparklers,
my great aunt and uncle and I
watch children skate on the frozen Fulda River.
I smile at my great aunt in her beret
and great uncle in his wooly hat
with flaps over his ears.
“Nothing at all on your head?”
he asks, brows raised, almost chuckling
at his crazy California relative.
I feel my eyes light up with the colored sparks,
laughing as he leads us to a wooden booth
with a man selling Gluhwein.
The clear bowl of spiced red wine
glows under the lamplight,
casting rosy beams on the snow.
We grip our mugs with both hands,
feeling their heat through our gloves.
We turn our red-nosed faces
toward each other,
basking in the warm glow
of distant kin.
We raise our cups.
Zum Wohle!
The Stubborn Little Tab
“How badly do you want me?”
the tiny metal tab seems to sneer
as I try to pull it from the cat food can.
I shake my head.
Why do I want this petty piece of metal?
I picture my sorority sisters
all over the continent
bringing bags of tabs to meetings
to recycle into cash
for Shriner’s Hospital.
A little girl cautiously walks
down the corridors of my mind,
for the first time post-surgery,
holding her therapist’s hand.
A burned teenage boy’s dressings
are carefully lifted off,
revealing delicate, new skin.
A large red ribbon is cut,
amid applause from staff
opening a new wing,
I stare down
at the belligerent little tab,
then yank it off with pliers.
I smile as it drops
into an old tortilla bag.
Jennifer Fenn has been writing poetry since high school. Her work has been published in seventeen journals, including Song of the San Joaquin, The Orchards, Brevities, Time of Singing, and Tiger’s Eye. She has self-published two chapbooks, Blessings and Song of the Katabatic Wind, as church fundraisers. She has won prizes in contests, most recently the Roadrunner Prize, awarded by the California Federation of Chaparral Poets.
Kassel, Germany 1997
By the light of post new year sparklers,
my great aunt and uncle and I
watch children skate on the frozen Fulda River.
I smile at my great aunt in her beret
and great uncle in his wooly hat
with flaps over his ears.
“Nothing at all on your head?”
he asks, brows raised, almost chuckling
at his crazy California relative.
I feel my eyes light up with the colored sparks,
laughing as he leads us to a wooden booth
with a man selling Gluhwein.
The clear bowl of spiced red wine
glows under the lamplight,
casting rosy beams on the snow.
We grip our mugs with both hands,
feeling their heat through our gloves.
We turn our red-nosed faces
toward each other,
basking in the warm glow
of distant kin.
We raise our cups.
Zum Wohle!
The Stubborn Little Tab
“How badly do you want me?”
the tiny metal tab seems to sneer
as I try to pull it from the cat food can.
I shake my head.
Why do I want this petty piece of metal?
I picture my sorority sisters
all over the continent
bringing bags of tabs to meetings
to recycle into cash
for Shriner’s Hospital.
A little girl cautiously walks
down the corridors of my mind,
for the first time post-surgery,
holding her therapist’s hand.
A burned teenage boy’s dressings
are carefully lifted off,
revealing delicate, new skin.
A large red ribbon is cut,
amid applause from staff
opening a new wing,
I stare down
at the belligerent little tab,
then yank it off with pliers.
I smile as it drops
into an old tortilla bag.
Jennifer Fenn has been writing poetry since high school. Her work has been published in seventeen journals, including Song of the San Joaquin, The Orchards, Brevities, Time of Singing, and Tiger’s Eye. She has self-published two chapbooks, Blessings and Song of the Katabatic Wind, as church fundraisers. She has won prizes in contests, most recently the Roadrunner Prize, awarded by the California Federation of Chaparral Poets.
