(This title is a quote from poet Mark Strand.)
I typically scroll through my WordPress Reader during lunch hour at the office. Today I came upon two gems. One – a collection of summer moments – made me write a poem (And I mean forced me – immediately!) while the other, read post-poem, seemed to perfectly celebrate the tiny thing I’d just birthed in a river of Bic ink. It included the words:
And Van Gogh’s little drawing on the cheap note paper was a work of art, because he loved the sky and the frail lamppost against it so seriously…
So. Here’s my lunchtime poem, written because – for a moment – I loved a grapefruit very seriously. Please send feedback, as I haven’t edited a word. (I never post without rigorous revision but… it’s almost the weekend. Let’s loosen up a little.) Long live the poetry munchers!
Suddenly, mind hurtles back to body.
There was a story, once…
In my palms, a pink globe transported from – where?
I pick through the trash for a be-stickered slab of rind.
Ah – California.
The variety? “Star Ruby.”
The story… it was about Alaska.
An Inuit girl saw an orange for the first time.
She found its warm solar glow
more precious than the promise of flavor.
She cradled it, intact, to her heart.