Family

My family established my sense of place in the world and my sense of belonging. Family is undoubtedly important for all of us. The following two poems appeared in the anthology Southern Light: Twelve Contemporary Southern Writers.

Christmas Papers

I was older when I noticed the same colors and patterns 
on the Christmas paper. Each year they reappeared,
but the patterns graced smaller packages.

Christmas morning emanated excitement 
and opening packages with scissors, 
carefully cutting tape, so as not to rip the paper.

I was older when I noticed my mother’s hands, 
ironing on Christmas night. 
She ironed the same towel again and again.

Under the towel, Christmas papers lost 
their creases and regained smooth surfaces.
Her hands rolled the paper we could never replace. 

Choosing between gifts and new paper, she chose gifts. 


Snow

Already the snow dissolves 
at seven in the morning 
in the Chattanooga dawn.

It returns me to an Ohio childhood. 
I drag my sled uphill 
to skid back down again.

I concluded the day's sledding 
and awaited my dad’s return, 
a rabbit in his hunting coat.

Blood and guts defiled 
the whitest landscape, 
cleaned up by dogs.

My mother was busy in the kitchen 
with the rabbit in a pan. 
She added vegetables from a Mason jar.

Birdshot lead between my teeth, 
I could not taste the flesh, 
washed down with milk.

Awakened from this dream, 
I breakfast on oatmeal with raisins, 
snow already melting.

If you have ever struggled with revising your poetry, you might enjoy the story “Revising a Poem” by my friend Finn Bille. It appears on the website of the Chattanooga Writers Guild. He has more stories about revising poems on his personal website.

The rest of this edition, with more poems, is for paid subscribers.