June 2023
Bio Note: I am a Michigan writer and poet. I sent my first poem out two years ago and have been published in many journals and media outlets. New work is forthcoming in SWWIM and The Writer’s Foundry Review. I workshop with the Poetry Craft Collective, a group of poets who review and encourage each other’s writing. For nearly a decade, I was a docent at The Holocaust Center near Detroit.
That Day
You brought me an orange bouquet—
long stemmed, cushioned in a white box,
lined with lime green paper.
I lifted the lid. All but one had wilted.
Pear
take me from this wooden crate
unwrap me
hold each end
twirl my paper cover
until the green tissue tears
slowly turn me
between your fingers
inhale my fruity scent
touch my cool skin against your cheek
hold my roundness in your hand
unblemished & newly ripe
slice me into fours
twist my thick stem
scoop the seeds from my flesh
then push them aside
put me on your tongue
let me linger & liquify
sweetness dribbles down your chin
stickiness stains your lip
swallow
Winter Squirrels
Winter squirrels,
grey like night,
climb to uncertain heights.
they bear the cold,
and own my yard.
a simple life, not so hard.
©2023 Linda Laderman
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to say what it is about the poem you like. Writing to the author is what builds the community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -JL