Amy Riddell
Crocus
What is this purple appetizer
serving its color up
from a green throat fed
by rain? Small
spoon for the eye,
meal of laughter,
ridiculous finger bowl,
grape, plump, oblong
tear, give me
your joyous juices
bitten free,
your full belly,
your thimble full
of mercy.
Julie Holds a Hummingbird
Julie holds her small hand
flat. The hummer, no bigger
than her finger, sits quietly there.
In flight its wings beat
fifty-three times per second
but now its brown body
is as still as a supplicant's,
wings and claws tucked,
the soft back silky
like a key-chain rabbit's foot won
at the fair. So still but alive, too,
the heart pounding out
two hundred measured beats,
turbulence masked in feathered
quietude. Its beak a fragile twig,
useful for drawing forth
the nectar, sweet strength against cold,
against death. The black eyes
depthless, no way in. White breast
a cotton ball soft
as breath. Julie catches
her own breath, leans in
to get a closer look,
the hummer completely still,
Julie finding the way
to be still, to stand waiting,
learning to keep her hand open,
herself open to the bird,
to this moment,
to whatever good
may come.
Shopping List
It was the loaves of Wonder
bread, spears
of Vlasic pickles, the list
as long as one of Mama's
naps and the hour's drive
each way, alone,
in the silver-grey Chevrolet.
Fleishmann's stick
margarine, nine pounds
of ground round,
ten links of pepperoni, sliced,
and six bricks of cheddar.
It was Mama's signed check
in my pocket, the amount
to be filled in, the Vienna sausages
and the French-cut green beans.
It was the rutabaga's hard body
and the eggplant's soft.
The frozen okra,
and the yellow squash.
It was the heads of iceberg
lettuce to squeeze,
packages of frozen
turnips and black-eyed
peas. It was my learner's
permit and the long drive back,
the bags to carry in when
I got there, and the chicken
to cut up and fry after that.
Amy Riddell teaches English at Northwest Florida State College in Niceville, Florida. Her
poems have recently appeared in Prick of the Spindle and Blue Fifth Review. Her chapbook,
Narcissistic Injury, is forthcoming from Pudding House Press.
Home
Issue One
Crocus
What is this purple appetizer
serving its color up
from a green throat fed
by rain? Small
spoon for the eye,
meal of laughter,
ridiculous finger bowl,
grape, plump, oblong
tear, give me
your joyous juices
bitten free,
your full belly,
your thimble full
of mercy.
Julie Holds a Hummingbird
Julie holds her small hand
flat. The hummer, no bigger
than her finger, sits quietly there.
In flight its wings beat
fifty-three times per second
but now its brown body
is as still as a supplicant's,
wings and claws tucked,
the soft back silky
like a key-chain rabbit's foot won
at the fair. So still but alive, too,
the heart pounding out
two hundred measured beats,
turbulence masked in feathered
quietude. Its beak a fragile twig,
useful for drawing forth
the nectar, sweet strength against cold,
against death. The black eyes
depthless, no way in. White breast
a cotton ball soft
as breath. Julie catches
her own breath, leans in
to get a closer look,
the hummer completely still,
Julie finding the way
to be still, to stand waiting,
learning to keep her hand open,
herself open to the bird,
to this moment,
to whatever good
may come.
Shopping List
It was the loaves of Wonder
bread, spears
of Vlasic pickles, the list
as long as one of Mama's
naps and the hour's drive
each way, alone,
in the silver-grey Chevrolet.
Fleishmann's stick
margarine, nine pounds
of ground round,
ten links of pepperoni, sliced,
and six bricks of cheddar.
It was Mama's signed check
in my pocket, the amount
to be filled in, the Vienna sausages
and the French-cut green beans.
It was the rutabaga's hard body
and the eggplant's soft.
The frozen okra,
and the yellow squash.
It was the heads of iceberg
lettuce to squeeze,
packages of frozen
turnips and black-eyed
peas. It was my learner's
permit and the long drive back,
the bags to carry in when
I got there, and the chicken
to cut up and fry after that.
Amy Riddell teaches English at Northwest Florida State College in Niceville, Florida. Her
poems have recently appeared in Prick of the Spindle and Blue Fifth Review. Her chapbook,
Narcissistic Injury, is forthcoming from Pudding House Press.
Home
Issue One
All rights reserved.
Chickenpinata
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| a journal of poetry issue one |