Ode to the First Poem I Ever Published
If a house can't be a face
can it be the body a woman
is told she
wishes she could possess?
hallways full of warping
mirrors they look a lot like
black and white photos of
the things every woman carries
a prebaked gingerbread kit
precut preformed pre decorated.
Does it work if I describe
the house as a piggy bank
plastic plug in the belly
insides shaken to the outsides?
The mansions at the resort ranch
and golf course during winter are
virtual 3D models with click-n-drag
furniture set into smooth rooms.
The bungalows near the co-op
are vases tumbling with
Sunset Dynasty Tulips
Moth Orchids
Hyacinth
wilting on countertops.
Is a lighthouse too alike to use
as a metaphor? it too having cliffs
and curled steps going up and up and up
seabound souls wailing frantic
for the whale fat lamp at the top.
By Rene Lytle
Biography:
Rene is a poet living in the urban parts of the Pacific Northwest. One of her latest poems, published in The Timberline Review, received runner-up in the Kay Snow Awards and was nominated for a Pushcart Poetry Prize. She has an MFA in Creative Writing from National University. When not crashing local poetry get-togethers, Rene is trying hard to keep her beloved Pink Princess Philodendron alive.
No comments:
Post a Comment