|my, un-orderly cupboard, empty white bowls included.|
I was an English major decades ago (only two!) back in college, and poetry classes were some of my favorites. Now here I am two degrees later and in nursing school at a community college, at the same time falling in love with poetry all over again.
I have two definites on my list of poems I will memorize. How many do think we can squeeze into our brains in one month? So far, I have one by William Carlos Williams and a Shakespeare sonnet. When I was looking up insights to my WCW poem online this morning, I stumbled upon this poet, Laura Kasischke.
by Laura Kasischke
The white bowls in the orderly
cupboards filled with nothing.
of applause in running water.
All those who've drowned in oceans, all
who've drowned in pools, in ponds, the small
family together in the car hit head on. The pantry
full of lilies, the lobsters scratching to get out of the pot, and God
being pulled across the heavens
in a burning car.
The confessions like songs.
The sun. The bomb. The white
bowls in the orderly
cupboards filled with blood. I wanted
something simple, and domestic. A kitchen song.
They were just driving along. Dad
turned the radio off, and Mom
turned it back on.
I like the simplicity, the imagery, the way the darkness is there whether she wants it to be or not.
I immediately felt a kindred spirit to this woman in Michigan, sitting perhaps at a desk near a window writing. I wonder what color her kitchen is?