30 poems in 30 days

NaPoMo 2010: Poems 8-14

13 and 14 are being held hostage somewhere in this computer.  I will attempt to ransom them eventually.
12  Dear Heidi, [Explanation From a Friend]
Yes, I could have said all this over ale and focaccia
at Papa Razzi’s, but it was more fun to talk books.
It’s simple: Take everything you know about me.
Now strip away poetry. Add haughty edicts that
retro passive resister sistahs like me should “know.”
Remove the belief that I might have an idea once
every now and again that has merit.  Assume “we
women” think and feel alike — or should.  Last,
remove my face from your sight for years, years,
and more years.  Now you are my blood sister.
How does it feel compared to truer kinship?
11 Unofficial Bewitchery
We piled in a car and went to Salem
–a punker, Ophelia, and the scarlet-
lipped woman Terminator.  Wax witches
pressed under papier mache stones
were scarier than the live hands
grabbing from the shadows.  I see
better in the dark.  We walked
through the famously gabled house,
bought pentacle penny keychains,
accepted mulled cider from wenches,
but the official witch never showed up.
I had to settle for amateurish attempts
at love, sipping tea made from calendula
while sleeping with a borrowed man.
[Prompt: Mid-summer — the time of year that calendula is picked by witches]
10   Well, that’s two !***% poems this week.  Sorry, won’t post.
Since there’s no poem today, I’ll use the space to say how much fun I had at Boston’s 10th Poetry Festival.  56 poets in two days.  Thank you to the open-mic audience!!  Harris Gardner, you rock!
9 That’s Italian!

Back in the days when, the baddest men
on Earth were Italian.  De Niro was
the godfather of baaad, and Travolta

da-aaanced!  Even in Dorchester, no one
blamed Athena, ebony goddess with
illegal curves, for loving a Ferzoco twin.

Slick-haired, thick-browed, golden tan.
He wasn’t White.  He was Italian.
So we middle-aged teachers lined up

on Hanover, drooling over pastel cookies,
thinking of that New Year’s Eve a closed
cafe re-opened for four sad undergrads.

The espresso machine was fired up,
tiramisu and chocolate thawed us out.
North Enders.  As good as they look!

[Prompt: Italian Americana]

8 Will appear here if/when I can fix the techno prob.


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