The Innisfree Poetry Journal

www.innisfreepoetry.org

by Joseph Somoza

SHUDDER

First day since last
winter I've been
cold enough to wear a sweatshirt and a song
starts up, "one of these
mornings, honey,"
a train
whistling from below, "you're gonna
miss me,"
a start
from winter blowing in, the leaves
down, more blankets soon,
the gas heat on that every year
gives us asphyxiation fear and so we crack
the window nights and
huddle close, 
"so long as we’re together."



MY MOTHER AT 91

After the fire burns off
the smoke, the sticks
flame and warm, the day
comes into itself,
a dove
perched on a branch,
the cats sleeping
in the pyracantha thicket,
clothes drying on the line.
If we could see past
the human,
we'd see ourselves more
clearly as wood
glowing with a slow
combustion
that burns off
the rage and resentment
and leaves us
dry
and warm.





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