Revision Workshop
Here is a poem I wrote (very, very rough draft) in the Revision workshop with Kate Messner.
One time on our porch in Warsaw
One time on my patio in Bloomington,
Where traffic rushed by noisily on the highway,
Where the unexpected woods butted up against our town home,
I would sit and dream.
Wonder, we’d be
in one year,
two years,
or ten years from here.
After school was said and done,
we moved on from
that patio next to the woods.
One time on my balcony in Lowell,
Looking down from high above.
Looking over the third story, plastic
railing sitting, perched on my black bar stool.
I listened as the water trickled,
from the fountain into the pond.
I took a deep breath of,
not so fresh, region air.
After two jobs, unemployment
and teaching take one,
we were ready to move on down Old 30
to the next chapter of our life.
One time in our flower bed in Mentone,
Yes, that’s right my flower bed.
At this duplex
there was no porch,
or patio,
or balcony.
In this town the roads are quiet,
the air is clear,
and the stars twinkle bright at night.
And here,
with no place for patio furniture
two green chairs sit in the rocks
to enjoy our 10x10 yard.
One time on our porch in Warsaw,
I sit and drink coffee
as Jethro sniffs along the fence.
Our fence.
Our fence.
The sound of birds tweet
from tree to tree.
There is a faint sound of cars in the distance,
but no semis or big rigs rumble.
One time on our porch in Warsaw,
the tomato plants blow in the faint breeze.
Jethro tosses a stick around the yard
and wages an epic battle
with a fragment of rawhide bone
he left to the rain a few days earlier.
On time on our porch in Warsaw,
I push in the chair on our patio furniture.
Whistle for the dog who
comes bounding up to our porch,
with his tongue hanging out.
As his nails tick across our deck
he drops the bone at our door.
One time on our porch in Warsaw,
I look back and think,
How far we’ve come.
From patio,
to balcony,
to nothing but a flower bed.
It’s hard to believe it took us
five years to find
our home.
