Tag Archives: M. J. Iuppa

Waiting for You in Rain

All the rain I have dreamed,    all of its steadiness, its down- pour squeezed from swollen    clouds sweeping low—rushing quicksilver—a thousand pings    of light, of dark water trembling in its blunder—    my words curl up like garden snails balancing on … Continue reading

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What Was Lost

In this age of the Ash disappearing, we are stunned by the wood’s unrest, seeing the multitudes leaning, side by side, like refugees reduced to lines, collapsing in- to each other, and nothing can be done. No wind, or rain, … Continue reading

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No Plans Come to Mind

We ate an enormous meal together. All of us, in the old farmhouse near Ontario’s shores, eating and talking and not talking, and laughing really loud. We are loud. Half of us have a hard time hearing, which makes it … Continue reading

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No One Knows I’m Here

Sligo, Ireland, May 2019 I keep busy, even in a stranger’s home, I press my life (however, briefly) onto theirs. I open drawers to find a spoon; instead of one, I find a girl’s journal, with a near-perfect illustration of … Continue reading

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No Small Thing

Low tide, end of May, Sligo’s “shelly” river reveals its catch among rocks & reeds. Gulls drift lazy overhead—stillness trembles in shallows below—a flicker is enough to ignite hunger in one gull descending to pick the river’s pocket—fish or eel, … Continue reading

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Lost Balloon

Six inflated blue exam gloves bound together— utterly prophylactic, strangely sputnik— hands floating on a string, hanging in the cubicle’s sunny window at my last infusion. I’m sitting in the chair where I began six months ago, full of held … Continue reading

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Aperture

            ~ Glencar Valley, Ireland, 2019 Fog in the valley, then searing sunlight. A bouncy lane to a glacier lake. Water without wind, a slow-moving sky. Remote—impression of Alps—a raven watches us—glistening in this vastness. M. J. Iuppa’s fourth poetry collection … Continue reading

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End of Winter

            Not yet mid-March, and it’s sixty-four degrees, I can hardly contain my desire to stop at the side of the road & walk empty-handed over old ties, over tracks that separate gravel lots from beaches to stand before Ontario’s chilly … Continue reading

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Hair(cut)

In your hands, the scissors snip with a precision that is and isn’t exact. My silver curls fall away from my head in slow motion and tumble down the length of my body, falling beneath my kitchen chair that sits on … Continue reading

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The Metaphysics of Crossword Puzzles

I want to pass time in bed with its mess of quilts and pillows & luxury of breakfast—toast, I presume—and brewed coffee, and an egg, soft- boiled, poised in its porcelain cup; and the daily news with its debate and … Continue reading

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Tensions

By virtue that’s inherent—a pursuit of happiness—he tells me, the garden is set to grow in thirteen raised beds. We wait, wanting the best of everything, but in our own bed, we doubt what we have done. All night, silence … Continue reading

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In Other Words

Rising in morning’s half-shadows, in the purr of rain caught in the back of the gutter’s throat, I gather ripe tomatoes sitting in flats on the porch and bring them in to be processed in the steamy kitchen where pots … Continue reading

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Interrogation

Sitting here, on this paint-peeling bench, with two squirmy kids eating sloppy cones, and three tethered dogs standing guard, waiting for my signal. I’m wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, so I can be distracted without anyone knowing how I count … Continue reading

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Good Luck

First days of summer, small plates to share; shimmering white wine glasses full of tonal ambiguity—it’s poetry. They know their limits, and get very close to admitting that this beet salad with its bright orange slices, goat cheese, and nasturtiums … Continue reading

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Hurry

Past dinghy storefronts, past doorways with broken thresholds, a girl wearing rain boots stomps through puddles; her green backpack stuffed with sticks the width of thumbs—her left fist wrapped around a bunch of just picked daffodils. She’s going somewhere—her cheeks … Continue reading

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Faith, Healer

Slumped in a straight-backed chair, she squints at her phone’s screen, scrolling for tragedies to comfort her. She likes to imagine what she would do when the whole world would know her terrible story. She practices saying the right thing … Continue reading

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Lost Baggage

In a sun-filled room that was full of afternoon shadows and raw wood, a barefooted man picked up his acoustic guitar and played a tune you knew by heart—those sad notes plucked in the comfort of his quiet lap. How … Continue reading

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The Sun and The Tomato

This is the third day of sun. First warm morning in ninety-six days, but who’s counting. I’m still wearing one of my baggy sweaters over my night gown. I am not cold. I am freezing, holding my clay mug close … Continue reading

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No Promises to Keep

Opening the lid of the box that I’ve forgotten, I hold my breath like an actress about to discover a trust that has been kept miles from the truth. And, my God—I lift the letter gingerly & read how I … Continue reading

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Bananas

Whenever it gets too snowy, too cold, too windy, she goes shopping. Mind you, she doesn’t need a thing. She has everything—a hunka-hunka husband, a set of twin boys, who keep her busy taking pictures of their constant boredom; a … Continue reading

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Unfathomable

She. switched off the lamp and left her mother in the dark. She. didn’t have anything more to say. Her mother died the next day. She. planned the funeral mass, a bit giddy. It was hard to disguise. She. had … Continue reading

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It Won’t Be Long

Another cold morning in December, indigo shadows inch their way to a spell of darkness. I pull the comfort of a new blanket around my shoulders while my socked feet absorb the shock of the slat floor’s constant complaint. I … Continue reading

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This Brief Spell

The moment I saw you walk away, I remembered the silent sweep of a gull soaring overhead, over Ontario’s morning stillness—the sun’s sheer glance off those sharp wings, off your bronze shoulders in step with a shadow that turned slowly … Continue reading

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One Shot

Minutes before midnight, a shot rang out, over snowbound fields, echoing off our barn’s weathered wall and I woke with its blast banking in my ear—its sound tasted like iron—my clenched jaw vibrating, I cried out in fear of who … Continue reading

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Coming Home Late

Tonight, winter’s first chill—shadows, thick as India ink, make the long ride home a calculus of hurry up. The road’s hypnotic black pulls me beyond the city to a rural lane’s obscurity where the only flash of headlights is deer … Continue reading

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