Bringing to Boil
This morning, mid-September,
the rooms of my house asleep,
I’m reading Ecstatic Occasions,
Expedient Forms, drinking coffee
from the mug Mary gave me –
a perfect heavy to my hand –
glancing out my door, looking
for something hidden, maybe,
something careless. I spoon
jelly over a halved piece of toast
left from last night’s supper.
The sweetness of the grape
in my mouth – but there’s an edge
of sour, and that’s the beauty
of my Mother coming through –
in the swill of her kitchen,
in the heat of her stove,
such a clash of disparate things,
such a rumble of the smooth.
copyright Sam Rasnake. Posted with permission from the poet.
This poem is Part 3 of a larger work, Appalachian Silence among the Dark Selves, first published in Necessary Fiction. I post it with permission by my friend and colleague, Sam Rasnake, and I share it as a tribute to his mother, who passed away earlier this month.
More about Sam Rasnake:
Rasnake’s works, receiving five nominations for the Pushcart Prize, have appeared in The Southern Poetry Anthology, MiPOesias Companion 2012, Best of the Web 2009, LUMMOX 2012, BOXCAR Poetry Review Anthology 2 and Dogzplot Flash Fiction 2011. He is the author of Necessary Motions (Sow’s Ear Press) and Lessons in Morphology (GOSS183). He is at work on a six-part poetry series – Tales of Brave Ulysses, which include so far: Religions of the Blood (Pudding House Press), Inside a Broken Clock (Finishing Line Press), and Cinéma Vérité (A-Minor Press).
Thank you, Sam, for sharing your words.
Tuesday Poem is a collective of poets who share poetry on a weekly basis across borders and time zones. Please check out the other poets and the main poem at the TP hub this week — by poet Joan Fleming, brought to us by Hub Editor Helen Rickerby.
For more Tuesday Poems, go here.