Choose a deep red one
with a green blemish
as the hole
a needle makes
The spot should be near the stem
so that each morning
as you pour your cream
you can watch this dust dot
the genesis of decay.
Ringed in wrinkled green-black skin,
soft blue-white mold will mound.
Good Housekeeping warns
mold has legs.
Shave the fuzz and you'll leave
roots tangled in juice and yellow seeds.
Better to let this spooky shadow grow.
Let it ooze like a sore,
tiny fissures erupting.
Your kitchen a dim garden,
what editors say ...
You have a lovely, clear voice that rings true for the reader.
-- Kerry Holjes, Senior Editor of When Women Waken
I love this poem. My girlfriend and I will only wear black when we eat out.
-- Michelle Hartman, Editor of Red River Review
Your poems show a side of and take an angle on Ritual that is unique among our submissions, and we think they would be an excellent addition to the Issue.
-- Troy Payne, Editor of Lantern Journal
These concrete details are lovely; their settings stronger still. Your understanding of how to move a piece forward, how to give it motion, is a true strength.
-- Judge from Sustainable Arts Foundation
Thanks for sending us your work, and we’ll be very pleased to include it in one of our poetry issues. I’m thrilled to be able to include your work.
-- Dr. Christopher Todd Anderson, Guest Poetry Editor, The Midwest Quarterly
what readers say ...
Lyrical and sensitive …
-- Jayshree M. Tripathi
I really enjoyed this uplifting poem which celebrates the power of the perfect shoe.
-- Pamela Newham
I love this, and I really relate to the torn feelings you so eloquently shared.
-- Stephanie Gagos