Eight poems by Jeanne P. Donovan

AESTHETICS

An aesthete in France

Murdered his giant pet turtle

By bejeweling it so

With rubies and sapphires

That the shell crushed

the flesh it protected.



A poet in Virginia

Fears she'll murder her verses

By decorating them so

With adjectives and adverbs

That the flesh, the idea,

Dies under their weight.

THE BEDLAM OF THE NUNS

all the children heard screaming

and horror at the sound

of woman after woman

shrieking in the night



was God so mad at them

as they lay in their quiet bunks together

for feeling sad that day

for asking too many questions in science or at dinner

for coveting their brother's toy



for peeking at Mary Claire's underwear

when she'd spun on the playground



no, it was the nuns

who'd screamed

so inappropriately

scared nuns

not god mad

one knocked on the door the next day,

explained. It was a bat.

forgive such inappropriateness

and floated face down and hidden

away from relieved sinners

THE WRITER'S TICK

We read

and the legs of a thief

make our scalps itch.

The tick is burrowing

the words into our heads,

sucking the blood of thoughts

we had ourselves,

but are now stolen forever

by a more affecting mouth.

Before we ever had a chance.

We're left with our stirred senses

bleeding through the skin

closing over the fat feeder.



We write

to light a match on the mound,

to burn our souls out,

to choose our own words.

PANDORA I AM NOT

Pandora I am not

I only wanted a small stream of light

to shed outside the box

so to see the day a bit clearer

not every day

not each since birth

not tomorrow

today, a bit clearer,

was all I wanted.

I asked one small question

and I'm inverted into

Cassandra,

begging to escape

from the eddy of light

pouring from the box.

Don't grant us yesterday's regret

or tomorrow's foreboding.

Just today, a bit clearer,

is all we want.

BASKET CASE

Someone told me once

that 'basket case'

came from the story

about Dickinson

and her cookies

lowered from her lonely room -

the Reach - into others' lives -

the Action propelling her

from Peoplephobe

to Cookielowerer -

to Warm -



I said I'd look it up

In my big, yellow

Encyclopedia of Phrase Origins



but I never did.

I never looked it up

in my encyclopedia



for it would have replaced the

Public redemption

of a Private soul

with a bloodthirsty,

catch-all cat call



like 'loony'

like 'crackpot'

like misunderstood.

OUTRIGGER

I could use an outrigger

When you kiss the back of my neck.

Two oars and two hands

Can't keep a boat straight-rowing

With intimacy breathing down it.



If we hold the boat still on

Land a little while

Together

Tie an outrigger

I'll stay dry

We'll stay afloat.



I could just use a little more leverage.

I've never exactly looked

Into someone's eyes before.

I can't be expected

To make these rapids

My first time out

In a used canoe.



I could use an outrigger

For some temporary hold.

I'll row myself and us downriver

While you sit in the boat, careless,

Your soft lips stroking the back

DOGS DON'T BARK IN MARIN COUNTY

Dogs don't bark in Marin County.

They need nothing

so say nothing.

They tramp,

laze tongues,

circle masters they

trip to express gratitude

for being owned

in such a place.

Such a place

where barks aren't needed.



In the bay wind,

golden fur swells

gently in wheat waves,

glowing up

and down white

and pink hills,

silent against

green and redwood.



I wonder if they have

us on leashes.

Do we bark ourselves

or miss the barking

when we don't hear

the dogs in Marin?



Their contentment

Our envy...

Their silent tongues

In us rouse both. 

Jeanne P. Donovan has been writing since she could walk, but didn't know how until she taught. After teaching English to adults and adolescents in the Washington, DC area, she now works for an accrediting agency for post-secondary education. Instead of in the classroom, she writes on planes and in hotels and on bar napkins. Her her poetry has been or will be published in Poets Magazine, Blood & Fire Review, Explorations 1999, Odinís Eye, Red River Review, American Poets & Poetry and Poetry Motel..

[ Poems copyright © 2000 Jeanne P. Donovan. All rights reserved. ]

Experienced poets who aspire to be featured in TW3's Permeable Looking Glass should send five to ten previously unpublished poems, with a short bio listing previous publications and awards, to Articles Editor Bill Sheldon.

Permeable Looking Glass Archive

Five poems by David J. Westendorp

Five poems by David C. denBoer

Five poems by Faith Van Alten Lee

Five poems by William D. Sheldon

---

A Not Entirely Disinterested Service of
Bancroft & Associates: Digital Publishers.