Three Poems by Karen Neuberg

 

Sidetracked

I start with the intention to peel

the potatoes for a bubbly scallop

when I suddenly find myself

thinking they'd make better fries

only to quickly envision them

as hash browns for next day's breakfast.

It's like that with my writing -- an idea

comes to me in a way that feels

as if I'm channeling finger to finger

when suddenly "be more wild"

hurtles out of me as though it located

a path through a dense forest and I'm 

in the forest, measuring trunk sizes,

thinking about sentient life and looking

up at light patterns through leaves

while surrounded by sounds of birds

and scuttling creatures and breath.

I'm alive in breath. I want to pull it all

into myself.  Want to share it with the quick

of this world.  I don't want to waste

time or breath on worry.  But, there it is,

always pecking at me.  My liver aches

but I'm not chained to any mountain,

no eagle in a loop to tear my side.

Instead, I'm here with the potatoes

and my latest plan to keep their skins

and bake them, then split and slather them

with butter, sour cream, a dash of pepper.

Somewhere and Elsewhere and Everywhere

Agency of weather.  Of virus.  Of unrest.

Contingency planning, disaster planning.

History bleating, bleeding, bloating into the future into our eyes

crumbling into our bones.

Wind and rain rattling our doorways:

hurricane, tornado, downburst, cyclone, monsoon, derecho . . . 

Somewhere nothing remains upright.

Elsewhere, tremendous hours of watching

what's approaching.  And everywhere, everyone

knowing what's already arrived.

Just a Handkerchief of Thought

Just a handkerchief of thought -- there,

in its corner, the girl on a swing

is me.  My skirt lifts above my knees

& shrieks of joy carry through the years

past the moon and back,

through the waves, at the shore, around

the playhouse, into the kitchen, platter of sandwiches,

bowl of cut melon, my mother, still

young, holding out her arms to give a hug.

How I want to step in, step up

and introduce her to these two boys

whose hands I hold -- her great grandsons.

Karen Neuberg is the author of the full-length poetry collection,  PURSUIT (Kelsay Press) and the chapbook the elephants are asking (Glass Lyre).  Recent poems can be found in Big  City Lit, Nixes Mate, and MAINTENANT 16.  She is the associate editor of the online journal First Literary Review - East.