Amanda Tumminaro – The Approach of Spring, The Trifle


The Approach of Spring


The time when the cattails rise

high-reaching like an impossible prayer,

I am sitting on a far away bench

writing a poetic effort and facing

my daily dealings like scrambled eggs.


Nobody wants to mow their lawns at first,

they are issues cropped up in the brain,

confronting the homeowner like the past.

So a red robin flies over –

his viewpoint only squares of grass and lost peoples,

blond locks shining in the birth of rays, deceptively.


The neighbor, she likes to grow vegetables in the warm,

leaving my headaches and my heart on the front porch.

I must insert each in the proper cavity.

Sun widens over in a massive thaw.

All land obeys like a shackled chain gang.


The Trifle


Pull back, pull back, I shall be

the child that sits

when the schoolteacher rings

the bell.


Drowned forth, drowned forth

bobbing for apples, rumpled water,

I quit, muffled, struggled,

wet hair.

Isolation, the bitter fruit,

always ripe, juices sour, orange pulp,

somewhat thick,

it was always bothersome.

Amanda Tumminaro lives in Illinois with her family. She enjoys reading, writing and caffeinated drinks. She has been published in Black Book Press, Storm Cellar and Shemom and her work can also be found in a forthcoming issue of The Stray Branch.




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