Poetry Kate Lebo — January 17, 2013 13:26 — 0 Comments
Three Poems – Kate Lebo
Only one woman alive today would say her favorite pie is mincemeat. She makes hers with green tomatoes and mixed assorted meat-stuffs. Her grandchildren hide her slices in their mouths and spit them into milk glasses when she gets up to answer the telephone. No thank you. Now is not a good time. She wanted to be a writer. She took photographs and painted, wore Isadora colored scarves that covered her hair like hair, was the most beautiful woman in town and justifiably vain. She likes to imagine her movements as gusts of wind blowing her children around the world, her little boats.
Chocolate Cream Pie
People who love chocolate cream pie move through this world in a swarm of music. Their cars leak basslines; their exhaust sings from the dark of the pipe. Periodically they experiment with the softness of their genders and find them lacking every time, wear skirts to feel the hair on their thighs and pants to bind their bodies into the clean lines of a park bench. They invite you to sit down. The chocolate pie-lover would like to convince you that her height is three inches above the crown of her head. She isn’t lying, exactly. She’s creating the truth, believer by believer, just as you would if you too had a voice as big as a church.
excerpt of From a Tree
A common term for the plant is dragon herb of the Northern Hemisphere.
Difficult to cultivate, it goes dormant at the roots
and happily tolerates drought and neglect, produces
more young reminiscent of its gardenmates
The belief that a plant’s appearance reflected its possible uses
made herbalists believe it could cure snake bite
What am I?
That sees by the shine
Of its own light. Lies
Blind me. I am the seventh human sense
And my stepchild,
Scientists can't find me.
Januswise I make us men;
Was my image then—
The awful fall up off all fours
From the forest
To the hours…
Tick, Tock: Divine me.
-- Richard Kenney