Friday, November 02, 2012

Louisiana's Poet, Julie Kane, and writing upon Monica Zeringue's "Matador" at Meadows Museum, Sun, Nov 4, 2 pm

Poetry reading at Meadows Museum on Sun, Nov 4, 2 pm, says Ashley Havird. Listen to and chat with Julie Kane, Louisiana's laureate poet.

In writings on the 30-foot Monica Zeringue mixed media piece, "Matador," there was a contest. First in the judging was Kathryn Usher's poem. She will will read it Sun. Herewith:

Strong necks will be necessary
that is this training
slice the trees carry the trunks
so tall you can’t tell the species
know that they are pine

under them sleep singing men who will trouble your dreams years later

with a shake of their lion mane hairs
right now you’re fresh in cotton panties and a little tank (socks to keep your feet clean)

when you do peel stretch marks and toe rings will fall out

the permission is this is still a good body
little fingers make horns to wiggle away blood demons
who have yet to find their way into this woods

no one knows where all the bread crumbs are you cannot count them
the color stays on the inside only to fall out the summer between
the fourth and the fifth grade when your trunk is packed for camp
you remove half your clothes to make room for a cardboard box

sanitary protection white as soap
warmth at the top of your thighs you can feel the liquid squirt out
ice water cubes take the stain (add another chore to the list)

that’s what you learn when your partner picks your feet up in the air
(this was not a dance) you were holding tight to the earth with iron claws
no way in hell were you going to be flung out from the trees

it is heaven here
late at night you can hear the hoot owls

the mystery is one lion haired man waited years to hold your soft belly next to him
take his strong fingers and pluck pluck pluck
your plushness like strings on a bottom heavy upright bass

it is a conversation with two lesbians (you remember them ---
they were at camp? we are all older now)
their eyes twinkle when they tell you how nice it is to fall back into a pool of female flesh

tree trunks crumble
mushrooms grow on stumps
eventually everything turns into a flower

Kathryn Usher
October 14, 2012

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