May 2021
Kim Klugh
kim.klugh@gmail.com
kim.klugh@gmail.com
Bio Note: This past year has sprouted its own collection of memories for each of us--all the more to add to
our life's album. Some of my memories have ended up in poems; that's one way of keeping them close.
A Brussels Sprouts Conversion
I remember how my dad loved
the tightly packed mini cabbages
how he buttered and peppered them
how I hated the way
they smelled up the house
when my mother plunged them
into boiling water
how I endured their stink
how I held my nose as they cooked
how I grimaced as I watched him spear
each green bud and pop them
one by one into his mouth
how he grinned as he ate them
If Dad were still here
I would invite him
to sit at my table
I would show him how
now years later
I slice those raw sprouts in half
drizzle them with olive oil
and roast them sprinkled with sea salt
I would show him
how I spear them
and pop them into my mouth
and how he would grin
as I ate them, one by one.
Innocence
The darkness
glimmered
fireflies
filled the thick
summer air
we romped
in the yard
we darted
from one
blinking
beacon
to the next
we captured
shimmering beetles
in our small
cupped hands
we flicked them
into rinsed out jelly jars
and in the twinkling of an eye
those summer nights were gone.
©2021 Kim Klugh
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