Cows browse in angel’s hair
grass, swaying gold and green. Low trees
pregnant with cherry
colored apples. Brother on brother’s
shoulders reaches for the top bough…
He ain’t heavy…fills the sacks—two palpable pecks.
Crunch of Cortlands bares their smack of sweet
young flesh. We pitch the cores into the sugar maple
woods from the Saturn window—singing a moo-moo
here...and a moo-moo there.
Little diner on the edge
Kathy Rose, the Anglo-Saxon
“Two eggs murdered
guitar, fiddle, & washboard,
Jack Daniels ad, overalls-
Near the air conditioner
CAUTION: COLD SEAT—HOT
Framed autographed photographs
of the Wicked Witch of the West
I’ve climbed its rough, black bark
scratching hands, scraping legs
sticking to the tacky dark
sap. I’ve spied the white inch
worm hanging from a thread
and tasted tart cherries
gold and red.
How far I like to spit
life’s annoying little pits.
But I’ve also smelled
blossoms, white and sweet,
and emerald, pointed leaves
turned to sunset, floating to my feet.
Karen Lake is earning an MA in English from UMass Boston and will graduate in June, 2011. Her manuscript, South Shoring, is a collection of writing, a contemplation of interests reflecting a shoring up of intellect, emotion, and spirit that forms an arc of transition and discovery. Much of her reflections are of childhood, adulthood, ecology, nature, animals and suburban life on the South Shore in Massachusetts. She currently works at the law firm of WilmerHale, continues to work on writing and has just started submitting work. So far her work has been published in The Watermark.