NOTE: One of the pleasures of moving to the Berkshires has been to meet V-V poet extraordinaire Kate Sontag and her husband David. Kate graciously included me in her writing group’s series of 30 prompts for April, and I offer three of my April poems here. They could be considered love poems, especially if you, as readers, are inclined to be generous.
(The prompt was to write a poem including a recipe you could actually make. I cheated a little.)
Love Potion #10
“I had so much fun, I’m going back again.
I wonder what happens with Love Potion #10.”
Take two pounds of chicken, breasts and thighs,
toss them in a pot.
Vegans may substitute larkspur or daisies.
Use violets, hibiscus, pansies and vanilla bean.
Eucalyptus leaves work especially well,
as do certain mushrooms,
but you have to gather them by moonlight
from a forest in the north.
Be careful not to pick the poison ones,
which look very much the same.
Add salt, but not too much,
enough to bring love beads to the surface.
Stir in some wine, red as heart’s blood,
until the previous ingredients begin to pant.
You’re almost there.
Take a shower, rub your body with oil.
When the one you want arrives, go together
to the bedroom and lock the door. Don’t worry
about the food. You’ll be too busy to cook,
and the takeout place on the corner is open all night.
(Confession: I used Audre Lorde’s lines as a prompt instead of the one assigned. I suck at following rules).
“Touching you I catch midnight
as moon fires set in my throat”
Touching you again,
I leave my cold self, grow
into my body, feel you soft
and swelling in my mind.
Kissing your neck,
your breast, your thigh,
I lose my mind once more,
plunge into a dream
of your scent, your voice.
You linger all around.
Your fingers in my hair,
your long hair loose
beside me, your breath,
your lips, your glorious words.
(The prompt was, well, include a lifeboat in the poem.)
I dreamed I was in the sea.
All around me darkness
and waves, the water
littered with fragments
of a broken ship.
Stars poured across the sky,
bright and beautiful
in that silent place,
but without a pattern,
no map to guide me home.
I woke in our bed,
that lifeboat we row together,
and I watched for a while
as you slept,
listening to the wind as it lashed
slender pines beyond the black pond.
© 2018 Steve Klepetar
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