Poem-a-Day

Poem-a-day

The Wicked Lady

Is it because I burned the potatoes?
The lady’s hat from last night had feathers,
usually that’s the best thing about a lady,
we’re only supposed to have five things.
She sang with wild horses in her stomach,
galloping through ale barrels and cabbages,
it never occurred to me she was hiding,
she was not the one in the grubby apron.
I want to cloak my skin in a stolen night,
hunt bloated rubies in carriages on the moor,
you are vexed I neglected the potatoes,
let the fire crackle and smoke hum for hours,
the dishes survived, the bed, the stale bread,
precious mutton still fat on a fragile bone.

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Previous Poems

Title	Author	Date
Self-Portrait on the Street of an Unnamed Foreign City	Jennifer Grotz	09/21/2015
The Lover Pleads with His Friend for Old Friends	W. B. Yeats	09/20/2015
With Music	Helen Hay Whitney	09/19/2015
Self-Portrait at 36 w/ David	Ellen Hagan	09/18/2015
Frequently Asked Questions: #9	Camille T. Dungy	09/17/2015
When we are on the right track we are rewarded with joy	Brian Teare	09/16/2015
Darling Coffee	Meena Alexander	09/15/2015
To Bring the Horse Home	Julie Bruck	09/14/2015
Evening	H.D.	09/13/2015
Brotherhood	Georgia Douglas Johnson	09/12/2015

Title

Author

Date

Self-Portrait on the Street of an Unnamed Foreign City

Jennifer Grotz

09/21/2015