Ruth Moose Verse-Virtual 2015 December

December 2015

I taught creative writing at UNC-Carolina, was on the faculty for 15 years. Have published 6 collections of poetry most recently Tea and The Librarian. Available from Main Street Rag Press. My first novel, Doing it at the Dixie Dew won the Malice Domestic Prize from St. Martin's Press and was published last year. It has done well and the sequel, Wedding Bell Blues is due out 2016. Am working on the third one, Daylily Do Off at the Dixie Dew.

Flute in a Far Room

Off the Interstate
in the Ramada, but still
traveling in my head,
I’m alone in a too big room,
rattling around beds, desks, chairs,
an empty tv.  I’ve returned
to the city I came first as a bride,
my young husband, younger
then than my sons are now.
His first job after college,
into the real world. We were
wed with all that lace,
rice, veiled view
of everything wonderful,
so alive nothing could touch us.

We bought a polished house.
I planted roses and raspberries,
saved S&H behind green shutters,
green trim, tall greened pines.  Even
the kitchen was green, walls, counters,
and bathroom tile, green.  I painted
the kitchen pink.  I could make one dish
for every day of the week.  Monday
was meatloaf.  Sent that husband off
every day in shirt and tie, blue and white
seersucker suit.  All the women stayed
home, hung sheets on the line,
made congealed salads
and layer cakes.

Now from a far room
I hear someone playing flute.
In a distant time, if I listen
hard enough, I can hear
the sound of his car
in the drive, his footsteps
on the porch.