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Meghan Adler's PoemsWalking in Savannah With My Landscape Architect Hospital With My Sister Visiting Nice Girl Turns Mean at Spiritual Retreat
Read more at www.meghanadler.com
Italian LessonIt’s lunchtime in August. I’m standing on the corner of Duane Street “Italian Lesson” appeared in Lumina (2004), where it won First Place in the 2004 Poetry Contest, judged by former US Poet Laureate Billy Collins.
Morning RitualI pull up the covers of my bedspread, “Morning Ritual” appeared in Lumina (2005).
Walking in Savannah With My Landscape ArchitectDaffodils unfurled, yellow signs “Walking in Savannah With My Landscape Architect” appeared in Watershed (2006).
Hospital With My Sister VisitingIt isn’t the IV line or me A white plastic bag, clean and empty, “Hospital With My Sister Visiting” appeared in Illuminations, an anthology published by Celestial Arts, an imprint of Ten Speed Press, Berkeley, California, (2006).
PomegranateAt a fruit stand, I’m trying to examine a pomegranate: ripe or rotten? And I want to call my dad and ask him to explain everything, all over again. Ask him where periwinkles come from. His hands cupping my five-year-old face. Let’s go find their mothers and fathers. At ten, how to clean the paintbrushes so the bristles won’t fray. I sniff the pomegranate for sweetness, freshness. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. All I really want is to make that new salad I saw on a cooking show last week. The one with a pomegranate, arugula, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and shredded dried ricotta. He’d know the difference in texture between dried ricotta and Parmigiano-Reggiano. I listen for the pit’s rattle. But he said to shake the avocado. I drop it back into its heaping pile and fish for one that isn’t too soft. A clear, red pomegranate without mold or bruises. I close my eyes and hear my dad explaining, pick before overly ripe, before they crack open, especially if they’ve been rained on. The chef on TV said to warm the fruit by rolling it between your hands to soften the insides, to ready the juice of the seeds. “Pomegranate” appeared in Gastronomica (2007), where it was nominated for the 2007 Pushcart Prize in Poetry.
Nice Girl Turns Mean at Spiritual RetreatIt’s the fourth night in a row that my bunkmate Blondie, newly divorced with a lavender eye patch, is snoring. Our bunk bed’s shaking. She rolls over occasionally to cough and I think: Great. Fucking great. Her snoring will stop, but no, it doesn’t, and I feel guilty since she has asthma, lungs constricted, chest heavy and wheezing, her meds and inhalers all lined up on the windowsill like Adirondack chairs. It’s 2:07 a.m. Now, 5:11 a.m. and the moon and sun are meeting halfway to weep at my ruinous sleep. My makeshift toilet paper ear plug wads are beginning to fall out. Blondie’s here for some group-therapy-cry-and-hug-type thing. Fuck. It feels like it’s the end of the world. Full-time teaching begins in two weeks, and I have poems to write and miles to go before I sleep, and would you believe it? Suddenly, the other roomie, who’s stunk up the cabin with her PABA-free Hopi tourist sunblock joins in the snorefest – emphatically answering her back. Look, I’ve been to camp with Quakers and Unitarians. I learned to swim naked twenty-five years ago. Bush-whacked up the backside of Mt. Snow. Was named like an Indian, Beaver Who Laughs With Pride, and shat in an outhouse for eight weeks. So after I imagine taking this 100% hemp pillow and smothering Blondie and Roomie, and after I’ve written a few good poems, I’ll do community work in the garden. God help me. I swear on a stack of bibles as tall as the Sears Tower in Chi-town. I’ll nourish compost with browned petals. I’ll pick the rotting sunflowers. I’ll weed weeds and find a yurt by the ocean like the Inuit nomads and pray. Really pray. Get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness. I will water the wilted sage and look for dried-up zucchinis until I’m up to my elbows, like the damned, forever in dirt. “Nice Girl Turns Mean at Spiritual Retreat” appeared in The Comstock Review (2009), where it was a finalist in the 2008 Muriel Craft Bailey Award Contest.<< previous | next >> |
