Rapid River Magazine, october 2006

R A P I D R I V E R A R T S & C U L T U R E M A G A Z I N E
POETRY
The poetry of Rose McLarney
edited by Jeff Davis
A note from the editor: From time to time
we’ll feature poets, some known, some not,
who’ve provided a body of work that seems to
merit more complete articulation than a single
poem could provide. Our poet this month is
Rose McLarney. Her craft is quick and razor
sharp, and her voice already echoes with a
wary, insightful maturity that would do anyone
proud.
Informal
Bread Basket and Backbone
of the Country
On the porch, speak the language of red velvet
and pound cake, the piece of the American South,
which is not displacement, politics, or economy.
For the cream cheese icing, do you add butter too?
But don’t let the sugar go through and through.
Say, Six eggs, Sift the flour, My at the lilacs,
while remembering finding a hummingbird, its neck
broken, caught between two blades of a heritage iris.
Listen carefully when the conversation turns
to staking peach branches. Learn to keep the trunk
from cracking under the weight of its own sweet fruit.
If I were a sculptor, I’d throw down my chisel,
knowing myself needless beneath the shape
of a tree. But a goat only smiles, spits, scratches
his horns on it. He’s free of envy. I want
to close my eyes and rest my head just
on a texture. A dandelion, bloomed out, blows
bare. In one gust, its purpose is done. Born
by filaments a breath and blade away, offspring
at once find their place. Take back my inheritance,
the wings that can cross oceans and the statues
that once inspired and stand expectant. Leaves
gust and I can hear the flight, sense the moving
light, without looking.
Malaysian Green, Greek Sea. Still, nothing
foreign. Houses have set ways, rooms their places.
Dining next to kitchen. A window over the sink;
you’ll be standing there a while. A bed,
a bath, no doing without that. And I wouldn’t
have it otherwise, unfamiliar like the first
night, feeling along walls for the light
switches. Of course, day came, the seasons,
the same. This fall, I can be sure here,
as elsewhere, blueberries grow dry and cold,
after and above jewelweed in ditches.
On the lawn, a rabbit stills, suspending
movement and moment. Preservation
is her interest, not to be seen. She has no
inquiry of me. She may anticipate
my going, springing into action, and away.
But I hope this holding, this hush, is in itself
enough when the desire is just to be
no different, be the brown of surroundings.
Owls, hawks, what is above her terrifies.
She does not wish to rise higher.
Clusters’ Roots, I Work Apart
Bodies are ringed round
in raining night, below
in the meadow, manly voices
booming to me. They must be
cleaning a deer. I’ve never been
hunting, can’t claim a kill or the
custom. You could say I can’t
get to the center of a thing
in the way of a gutting. But
though my back may ache
only from digging to the depth
daylilies require, night and
10th
annual
Poetry
Contest.
Any unpublished poem 35 lines
or less is wanted!
5 winners.
Dinner for two at Tripps.
Go to the ALO Opera.
Books from Malaprop's and
CDs from Karmasonics!
More Prizes to come — stay
tuned!
Deadline Dec. 8th. Winners
will be notified by Dec.
16. Winning poems will
be printed in the Jan 2007
issue. Reading fee: $5 for five
poems. More info call
(828) 258-3752.
Good luck!
Send poems to:
Rapid River Poetry Contest
85 N. Main St.
Canton, NC 28716
Burrow
How long does it take to get there, what
can be made out of leftovers, trivia,
Why do we yawn? Less than an hour,
soup of some sort, lack of oxygen, maybe—
questions don’t matter now. It is that time.
I have settled, been insured, in title and deed,
given keys, and closed. I’ve bought a house.
I painted it new skins of my choosing,
necessity, work and worry--
I am wise of them.
I deadhead flowers and thin
too, like this body, my own
ribs the rack to pursue.
I watch. I have windows.
The world comes in,
the warmth goes. I know.
Rose McLarney and her goats,
chickens, and Siamese cats live in
Madison County, North Carolina.
With the exception of parts of
her childhood spent in Central
America, Rose has always lived
in western North Carolina. She
works at Lark Books in Asheville.
18 October 2006 — Rapid River ArtS & CULTURE Magazine— Vol. 10, No. 2