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Archive for March, 2013

From an Old Thought

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on March 3, 2013| 4 Comments »

The Chinese believe
in a thin red thread
that connects everyone
to everyone else
they are destined to meet.
I don’t know that I
believe in the thread,
but I do believe in luck.
Red luck, green luck,
transparent luck. But
if there is a thread
that I followed to you,
I hope we are now
hopelessly tangled,
twined and tethered,
no chance of losing
each other. I know,
I know, I’m supposed
to let go, to release,
set free, liberate.
But is it so wrong
for me to let go
and at the same time
pray that the red thread
I don’t believe in
will never break?

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In Honor of Dr. Suess’s Birthday

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on March 1, 2013| 2 Comments »

Confession of a Stay at Home Mom
(I wrote it a few years ago, but thought it was a good day to repost it …)

I’ve fallen in love
with Dr. Suess,
I want to slather him in rhymes
until his Horton hears my Whos.
I’ve heard delicious rumors
of his seven hump whump,
Did he say seven humps? Seven?
Oh! be still my whump-a-thump!
I want to find him in my car,
I want to find him near and far.
I want to find him in my house,
I want to find him up my blou …
Oh, excuse me.
I know what you’re thinking:
Rosemerry, Dr. Suess?
Isn’t he a bit too old for you?
But if he’d just take a gander,
I will be his Mother Goose
and oh! The places we’ll go!
Good Doctor,
put your wocket in my pocket
and when we’re through
I want to get lost
in your Solla Sollew.
I’ll even eat green eggs and ham
for the chance to undress
a rhyme with you.

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Eating Beet Salad at Lala’s

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on March 1, 2013| 2 Comments »

Though there are great oceans
to revere and spiraling galaxies
to venerate, there is also the humble
beet, served here sliced thin on a long white plate,
tousled with dark green arugula
and drizzled with sweet, thick balsamic.
This carpaccio could make a woman find
religion, especially when served
with a wedge of flatbread and pesto
with mascarpone. Dear God, I know
nothing about the ordering of the stars,
cannot fathom the intricate
paths in the brain, the palm, the spine,
but the beet with its rings, its red,
its stain, I can find you here, not
a god restricted to heaven, but one who understands
earth and dirt and bitterness turned sweet.

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