February 2018
Donna Hilbert
donnahilbert@gmail.com
donnahilbert@gmail.com
I am finally remodeling the beach house I moved into almost twenty years ago. I hope to hear the sound of waves above the saws and hammers. My family, poetry, my long-running workshop, and my standard poodle are the passions of my life and keep me eager to meet each day. Gravity: New and Selected Poems, my eighth collection, is forthcoming in spring of 2018. www.donnahilbert.com
Note: When I think of Dick Allen’s poetry, what comes to mind is the poetry of presence—honoring the moment at hand. I hope that my poems occasionally capture a bit of that spirit.
Note: When I think of Dick Allen’s poetry, what comes to mind is the poetry of presence—honoring the moment at hand. I hope that my poems occasionally capture a bit of that spirit.
Use
There are days when even dirty
dishes make me happy: orange
plate, blue enameled pot, tiny net
for straining lemon seeds
from juice that tarts the soup.
I love the dishevelment
of the dishtowel (orange too)
half in and half out of the sink—
stainless steel sink, still gleaming
under constant drops of water.
first published in Nerve Cowboy
Assembling the Soup
Finger the plug of stem
from tomato’s plush belly,
crush the flesh between your palms.
O what satisfaction in the swish
and plop of pulp splashing
into the pot, in the thwack
of knife on wood mincing garlic,
dicing onion. All forms in flux
here, even the tiny beans
waiting in the glass bowl
are turning the water purple.
from The Congress of Luminous Bodies
Village Café
Orange cup
(lip-side down)
pink saucer
on the turquoise table
so Good Morning
I almost hate
to turn it upside
on the plate
for coffee’s sake.
Use
There are days when even dirty
dishes make me happy: orange
plate, blue enameled pot, tiny net
for straining lemon seeds
from juice that tarts the soup.
I love the dishevelment
of the dishtowel (orange too)
half in and half out of the sink—
stainless steel sink, still gleaming
under constant drops of water.
first published in Nerve Cowboy
Assembling the Soup
Finger the plug of stem
from tomato’s plush belly,
crush the flesh between your palms.
O what satisfaction in the swish
and plop of pulp splashing
into the pot, in the thwack
of knife on wood mincing garlic,
dicing onion. All forms in flux
here, even the tiny beans
waiting in the glass bowl
are turning the water purple.
from The Congress of Luminous Bodies
Village Café
Orange cup
(lip-side down)
pink saucer
on the turquoise table
so Good Morning
I almost hate
to turn it upside
on the plate
for coffee’s sake.
©2018 Donna Hilbert
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to tell him or her. You might say what it is about the poem that moves you. Writing to the author is the beginning of community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -FF