Issue 5:
Warm
Janet I. Buck
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The Penniless Quilt
Padded arbitrarily by lumps
of strife and poverty,
"Home Sweet Home" was
flatbeds of a pick-up truck.
Reminding me of Grapes of Wrath,
without the literary prize.
A windshield cracked in lacy webs.
Vacant wallets had their caves.
Black widows danced
when hunger raped,
yet held windows open wide
for other brands of renaissance.
Money wore ammonia smells--
an outhouse in the fertile air.
Paint on brick with heavy scents--
the artificial butter kind
like popcorn in a movie house.
The grind of hope,
a squeaking swing-set,
rusted by rules of thumping rain
that rendered mud a potter's wheel.
Raisin eyes were plumped a shade
by feeding crusts to hungry ducks.
Her loose gray hair in a cinnamon bun
with the rich, warm scent of rising dough.
Her mansion was a clump of clouds.
Defined familiarity--two tall shrubs
that took their place like mustard/ketchup,
yellow/red in diners of an autumn day.
The penniless part seemed copper-less
beside the shine of earthly art--
where birds were feathers in a wind
and puddles were checked tablecloths.
~Janet I. Buck
Janet teaches writing and literature at the college level. Her poetry appears in hundreds of publications online and in print. Visit her website for information on her new CD, books, readings, and appearances.
© 2000 by Janet I. Buck. All Rights Reserved.
© 2000-2002 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.
This page updated April 23, 2002.