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Grecian Urn, Revisited
Tree Riesener
Thou still unravished bride of quietness, run
no longer terror-stricken through the neon streets;
slower, slower, let the slavering pursuers gain.
Yes, the pool table waits and the juke box rages,
but grab the cameras, smash them on the floor.
Tell Daddy, hell no, he can’t throw you to the mob.
At just that moment their arms reach out for you,
turn around and face them. They will stop in shock.
You may not have to use the Uzi cradled in your arms.
Pottery smashed, re-thrown. The song re-written.
Yours the wheel and yours the pen.
Heard melodies are sweeter, streets no longer silent,
sing it out why thou art desolate no more:
if truth is beauty, all we need to know on earth,
needed no more submissions for the old anthology.
© Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. This poem may not be used for any purpose without the express permission of the author.
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The Invitation
Tree Riesener
I’m going to take a nap, he said,
would you like to come?
I wasn’t sure I wanted to;
I’d never been to his nap before
but I said okay.
We had a snack
and a glass of Chardonnay,
then we took off our clothing.
The comforter was down,
and since it was autumn,
geese flew overhead,
never knowing
their cousins’ relics,
like the hair of Dachau’s dead,
lay under them.
He was warm and
I felt welcome.
We made love and then
slept deeply for an hour.
While I took a shower,
he made strong coffee with cream
and served it in big white-and-gold cups.
Thank you for inviting me to your nap,
I had a very nice time, I said, and
after I got home,
I wrote him a note
especially mentioning
the warmth and safety
I had felt under the comforter.
© Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. This poem may not be used for any purpose without the express permission of the author.
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Jigsaw
Tree Riesener
Of course you’re part of the jigsaw,
although
the loveliest pieces--
stained glass windows,
deer’s liquid eyes and antlers,
jewels on some antique lady’s breast--
are, I’m sorry to say,
as always for
the beauty contest winners,
the valedictorians,
and CEOs of major corporations.
In addition, poster children
and Special Olympics winners
get kindly fancy pieces,
but for most of us,
that bit of muddy grass,
lower left corner,
or that endless, limpid,
cloudless sky...
well, they’re free
and, really,
just as good
because not so flashy.
Better, really.
You can have a feeling
of real accomplishment
when you figure out
where they fit in,
and you’ll know,
even though you
just hold it all together
for the fancy pieces,
you’re an important part
of the total picture,
really.
© Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. This poem may not be used for any purpose without the express permission of the author.
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Duvet
Tree Riesener
In a white bed, I sleep
with a man who loves me,
feathers over and under us.
We reassure each other that
the geese survive,
they grow another crop.
We haven’t tried to do this yet
with steaks and chops,
yet we like to eat
in that little sushi shop
where the Tokyo chef
tops our rice with flesh cut
from living fish he then puts back
to await the next order
in cloudy-pink water.
© Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. This poem may not be used for any purpose without the express permission of the author.
Poetry Page 2
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