poetry

the next true thing

the next true thing*

I could do this all day
Paloma says

meaning write a silly story

and I’m so glad I live
however briefly
in a world where that’s true

*title from writing advice by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

poetry

Krista Reinoceroferous and the Stone Cold Sober Dog

Corey Bee's trousers.

Krista Reinoceroferous and the Stone Cold Sober Dog

This poem is inspired by Krista’s post to the 80027 – OhOh27 – The Original OhOh27 Facebook group inviting folks to share their silly (and sweet) stories about what they grabbed while evacuating from the Marshall Fire. Photos by Corey Bee and Joanna Cagan.

Krista invites us to laugh
at our terror-fogged brains
and we do, and go limp with relief

we giggle at all the truly odd odds and ends
that made it into our evacuating cars
and the essentials that unaccountably didn’t

first, the treasured foods:
cherry pie and sumo oranges
a pot of hot soup on a lap in gridlock for hours
and the vegan family’s subsistence bean dip
the frozen pizzas from Chicago
and the precious stored breastmilk
(which every pumping mother totally gets)
and the Brits’ Marmite and the Aussies’ Vegamite
all spared to nurture our senses of humor now

then, the impractical wardrobe essentials:
the cherry red crushed velvet bell bottoms
the toddler’s cast and the single sneaker
lots of uncomfortable bras packed by hopeful husbands
and a surprising quantity of skis and swimsuits

there are the touching tokens of responsibility:
the friend’s borrowed thesis
and tons of library books
the holiday reading log and the science project
the ashes of people and pets not keen on being cremated twice
spare tires and Covid cards
and a healthy number of work computers
intentionally left in the fire’s path
(work-life balance…)

my favorites are the truly inexplicable
like the cowbell or the stapler
the kitchen knives or the TV remote
and especially the Nicki Minaj votive candle

we keep reading not just to laugh
but to be there with all these sweet frantic hurting humans
to treasure that single castle drawing left from years of childhood
to comfort the couple worried about the candle on the Sagamore coffee table
to listen to both sides of the argument
about whether the firebox should have been allowed to fulfill its destiny
to root for the playing of those Beatles 45s someday

we’re all so delightfully flawed
fallible and irrational
quirky and lovable
and so very in need of a good laugh these days
so thankful for the vulnerability and care
and not-taking-oneself-too-seriously in the 0027
and so very proud of each person
who crammed a goat in their Honda Pilot that day
(or the equivalent)

poetry

The Platypus Band

The Platypus Band

They say in Eungella
‘midst the river and sand
when darkness descends
and night cools the land
‘tis then that you’ll hear
what you can’t understand
no your ears don’t deceive you
it’s the Platypus Band.

It starts nice and calm
yes, perhaps a bit bland
til bats flood the sky
and the moment’s at hand
when wings beat the darkness
the duck-bills will jam
and belt out their anthem
We’re the Platypus Band!

Oh you may think it’s quiet
in the hills of Queensland
with only the creek’s lilt
to sing to a man
oh I doubt you’ll believe
til you hear it firsthand
those monotremes in stereo
they’re the Platypus Band!