Poem of the Month


 Margot Again

 Wearing those clothes from the old country,

unwashed, no make up,

a cousin I must humor.

Let me make you some chicken soup—

she takes over the kitchen

in one two three time. Chops on the board,

stirs leeks into a paste

of schmaltz and onions.

I tell her—you’ve brought back

a case of nerves, you must go.

I beseech you—take the train, call a car,

go back to that town in Europe,

a village so small it doesn’t exist.

She turns and says

What is it about you?

You don’t know how to enjoy a hearty meal?

You race against the clock that beats

with the sound of hooves on a track.

Always betting on the wrong horse,

Pain in a Pocket.