Leaving for university
There she stands
faded floral apron neatly tied
paring knife in her right hand
a yellow onion held firmly in the left
she peels it with great precision
golden skin falling to the kitchen counter
followed by layers of translucent flesh
Onion crescents slipping from her fingers
she mutters, onion tears
turns her back to me
Later, driving north on the old coast road,
I remember the onion
her hand grasping the slippery core
not letting go
As once you were
these letters are left authorless
only the soft imprint of ink upon vellum
speaks to their inscription –
ghosts pigeons ovens
smoke sparrows floods
clutch of human teeth
short span of life smoke upon granite
pigeons and sparrows pick
at the scattering of human teeth
neither man nor child walks here
ghost or spirit –
you who spread bright ribbons
across the boneyard
what is your story?
(After Mina Loy, Letters of the Unliving)
Elaine Schwartz currently resides in Albuquerque, New Mexico with her husband Daniel and Purr’l the Postmodern Pussycat. She is co-founder of the Albuquerque Chapter of Poets Against War and co-editor of the monthly broadside, the Rag. Her poetry, best described as a tapestry of place and political imagination, has appeared in numerous publications including the Porter Gulch Review, An Anthology of Monterey Bay Poets, Monterey Poetry Review, Santa Fe Literary Review and Poetica.
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There she stands
faded floral apron neatly tied
paring knife in her right hand
a yellow onion held firmly in the left
she peels it with great precision
golden skin falling to the kitchen counter
followed by layers of translucent flesh
Onion crescents slipping from her fingers
she mutters, onion tears
turns her back to me
Later, driving north on the old coast road,
I remember the onion
her hand grasping the slippery core
not letting go
As once you were
these letters are left authorless
only the soft imprint of ink upon vellum
speaks to their inscription –
ghosts pigeons ovens
smoke sparrows floods
clutch of human teeth
short span of life smoke upon granite
pigeons and sparrows pick
at the scattering of human teeth
neither man nor child walks here
ghost or spirit –
you who spread bright ribbons
across the boneyard
what is your story?
(After Mina Loy, Letters of the Unliving)
Elaine Schwartz currently resides in Albuquerque, New Mexico with her husband Daniel and Purr’l the Postmodern Pussycat. She is co-founder of the Albuquerque Chapter of Poets Against War and co-editor of the monthly broadside, the Rag. Her poetry, best described as a tapestry of place and political imagination, has appeared in numerous publications including the Porter Gulch Review, An Anthology of Monterey Bay Poets, Monterey Poetry Review, Santa Fe Literary Review and Poetica.
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