by Margo Solod
copyright © 2001
Ludlow Press Poetry
Home
/ Order / Contact /
Submit / Links
RUTH
by Margo Solod
copyright © 2001
Ludlow Press Poetry
Ruth
She calls me to the window, "Look –
the trees are singing to me -"
All I can see is dew
beading the needles of dark spruce.
Sometimes the waving branches call
to her, remind her how to work
the intricate latches I've installed,
and I find her wandering
at the edge of the woods. More often now
the trees threaten, and she
cowers in the kitchen, hiding
from their raised, waving fists.
Her mind narrows
to the width of these walls
and there is nothing I can do
except turn off burners,
hide the pots,
explain to her what
shoes are for.
On good days she understands
why she can't drive the car she loves.
On bad days she sits in a chair
she can't remember and
sings
back to the trees.
(originally published in The Kerf)
Margo
Solod's latest publications include The Kerf, White Pelican Review, and The
Comstock Review. She is the author of 3 chapbooks, and lives in the middle of
72 acres in the Shenendoah Valley of VA.
E-Mail: margosolod@rockbridge.net