Featured on ArLiJo Issue No. 52
—Narrow Walkway, photo by Susan Kerr.
[I’ll lay in the field with him one day, and we’ll act like]
I’ll lay in the field with him one day, and we’ll act like
we don’t have a care in the world. We’ll laugh and lay
in green, green grass and wish for nothing more.
Breezes will caress our memories, and sunlight and blue,
blue skies will expand our reach towards today’s
romance and all things lovely. I’ll revel in my dimples.
His, too, and the glint in his eyes’ twinkling. All will be
well and wonderful and grand for we will want each
other for abundance, not for pain or pity. We’ll be and
hope and wonder. We’ll remember our yesterday’s
lightly, glancing back to catch only the smiles. We’ll just
be and lay in the sunny, warm grassy field, and let the
sun kiss us all over and over and over again.
Copyright © 2010 by Susan Kerr.
—Classic Gondola shot, photo by Susan Kerr.
—Incredible Venice 1, photo by Susan Kerr.
Susan Kerr is a poet, artist, and entrepreneur living in Old Town Alexandria with frequent visits to Venice, Italy. Her work has appeared in her small collection of poetry called Little Ones as well as at OpenView Labs book called What Really Matters: A Guide to Defining and Realizing Your Company Aspirations with an introduction by Tony Hsieh.
She is currently writing a small book called V sharing her love of Venice, Italy, expected out this summer. She'd love to hear from you: firstname.lastname@example.org
Visit this author's homepage at www.susankerrinspiration.com
E-mail this author at email@example.com
Featured on ArLiJo
Nominated for a 2012 Pushcart Prize
a nun and a witch
“you’ll never meet a better man than me”
another one aims the same hex at my back
the first to curse me was right
it all devolved from him, crooked adam
so I will become
a nun and a witch
doubly beyond their reach
bridal in billowing black
taking my shadowed vows
under the dogwood and the ash
out in the open in my witch’s habit
unearthing roots, poaching a rabbit
I have no need of you
won’t take heed of you
I will be murmuring over beads,
ring around the rosary
in the cathedral, candles glimmer my spells,
none of which will be love charms
the wives will beg my prayers;
what strange milk your cow will give
I will fly, I will fly!
wild-haired under a wimple
no man will know what to make of me
with my ruler and my broom
cloistered with a clutter of cats
whistling hymns at midnight
a censer full of bitter herbs
ringing out an intoxicating cloud
I will take
a saint’s name and a sinner’s name
I have scorned your salary,
disowned your endowment
accepted the scholarship
to the divinity school of the ditch
my beloved fatherless daughter
grows up to be the village bitch
and I will come before you
and I will come after you
oh I will be whole all on my own
when I am a nun and a witch.
Copyright © 2012 by Samantha Magrath.
Samantha Magrath is a poet living in Takoma Park, MD. Her work has appeared in literary journals including Antietam, Bogg, Chiron Review, Connecticut River Review, and The Cape Rock.