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Tag Archives: M. J. Iuppa
Another Dark Place
In a dark time, the eye begins to see. — Theodore Roethke Shallow breath is winter’s way of breathing; I am double-masked walking in the woods, with fogged glasses; dressed in black, pushing my stick ahead of the mud that … Continue reading
The Question of Summer
By August, the air grows heavy—everywhere, a milky haze of overcast—the sun smolders behind clouds. And here, now in fields and along roadsides, chicory sprawls in its barbed wire defense, keeping invisible boundaries visible. Lake Ontario settles in its cold … Continue reading
Under a Solitary Sky
The world seems weary in isolation. It complains of not being seen or heard; yet, our meadow, full of goldenrod, will never be as lonesome as crickets simmering in another steamy night. No august stars streak across Ontario, igniting a … Continue reading
Perspective
Just beyond our kitchen garden’s box frame, last year’s oak leaf & butter lettuces have seeded themselves inside the cowlick of grasses, growing in patches of ruffled leaves that haven’t yet been found by nightly foragers that emerge from the … Continue reading
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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