Poetry |

“Class Visit in Anacortes,” “Postcard From Sunny Florida,” and “Woodworking, turkey, guns”

Class Visit in Anacortes

 

Two refineries, an eyesore smelter in Anacortes.

Heard it more than once: I feel safe in Anacortes.

 

Watch sparks fly enthuses the Chamber of Commerce.

Water-based industry a vital infusion in Anacortes.

 

A book about boasting, a fox quite vainglorious,

pompous. Basho turns the other cheek in Anacortes.

 

Before white settlers the Kwaht-kahd’-KED, til erased

by smallpox. No more longhouses in Anacortes.

 

Read a poem about tacos, a Brontosaurus.

A few brown kids — noticeably absent in Anacortes.

 

Pencils out: share a time you witnessed injustice.

They write about Selma, not Anacortes.

 

Poems can spyhop like orcas; some bore us.

It’s hard to talk about race in Anacortes.

 

Glacier Peak’s an equal opportunity destroyer.

A lahar will reach the sea, wipe out all in Anacortes.

 

 

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Postcard from Sunny Florida

 

Mai tai’s Tahitian for sin qua non. Without comparison the blackened grouper,

our sparkly-tailed mermaid server, a vision in cowboy boots and cut-offs,

asking would it be key lime or fudge, how we could, if full, slather it directly

onto our hips, which I considered as I strolled to the restroom through a soft-core

porn maze, fellas waving hello from matching Port-a-Johns, titties galore.

All week I’d been meaning to ask which was Papa’s favorite: Weeping Love Grass

or Little Bluestem, with its bearded florets. Ibises incubate their cerulean eggs

beside a cement observation tower, my hush-band a half a mile ahead while I search

through the gumbo limbo for the white-eyed vireo, no-brainer buzzy like a wren.

Tiki bars, lemon half-wheels. Another stud with his pecker hidden by a stepladder.

At the Naples Zoo we learn the smelliest monkey is the one most likely to mate.

 

 

 *      *      *      *      *

 

Woodworking, turkey, guns

 

went the opening of a Facebook post of my loving Aunt June.

Four wheelers, cousins, guns.

Football, BBQ, guns.

 

So much to be thankful for,

she shared, like your niece jumping

into a pile of leaves, like your grandson

 

gnawing on a drumstick, like your daughter-in-law

taking a knee in the fading Arkansas sun,

aiming at something just out of view.

 

Contributor
Martha Silano

Martha Silano is the author of five books of poetry, including Gravity Assist, Reckless Lovely, and The Little Office of the Immaculate Conception, all from Saturnalia Books. She also co-authored, with Kelli Russell Agodon, The Daily Poet: Day-By-Day Prompts for your Writing Practice (Two Sylvias Press, 2013). She teaches at Bellevue College near her home in Seattle, WA.

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