Seeker Magazine

Three Poems from Calamity's Quilt

by Janet I. Buck,

In honor of Janet Buck's forthcoming volume of poetry, which will be published December 1st, Seeker is pleased to include three poems from the volume. Janet was profiled in our Poet Portrait in January 1998 and has had several poems in other issues, in the "Gryphon's Nest" collections. It is always good news when a contributor is published in hard-copy.

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Depressing Wheel

Limping right behind the pain
of wearing thin mobility.
I watch you move like beavers
calling sticks to them for
building dams, enduring days.
One arm on the grocery cart.
The other on depressing wheels.
Back and forth maneuvering.
It is the dance of fate askew.

Tires more like rubber bands.
Stretch too far. Your health will snap.
Granted toes belong to others
sunning on the come and stay
of bones that do what they are told
and follow wishes of the mind.
In the chair was "in my face."
A cobra in the jungle fever
sweating, very sweating truth.
Sunk so low. Distilling eyes.
Change the focus with a smile.
Move your stares to other skies.
Drink the fire of gratitude
and leave my aching soul alone.

You thought my eyes belonged
with theirs, but nothing's further
from the truth. I know the
clench of agony and legs
like soggy carrot sticks.
The rusted valves of irony.
Those who see the lace of life
are rocking on its brittle edge.

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Assumption
It's been two years, one month, three weeks,
four days.
Since I sat on the edge of her bed
reading "Dover Beach" aloud
for ears pressed firmly
to the final page of life.
Patches of strength
curling their corners
like bandaids over wetted skin.

And I thought I could.
Make crepes that smiled from the pan
and press her Irish linen
without the steam of tears
and tuck it out of sight.

We matched like new pairs of socks
in my underwear drawer
or widows holding hands at Sunday Mass.
I'm sure she knew I smoked
and never said a word.
But turned faux pas like broken lips
of china cups around to face the wall.
It's been two years, one month, three weeks,
four days.

And I thought I could.
Sit on her bathroom floor alone.
Use wine to take me places I needed to go.
She had this way---
of revising defeat---
of pouring waterfalls of misery
into margarine tubs
and sending me home,
steering straight.

I still feed the daisies she left
with watered gin, and they flower
even in September's shade.
Each book she bound with patient flesh.
Advice a gilded potpourri
sprinked like sugar
over bowls of regret.

We both agreed that bridge
was a waste of precious hours.
That poetry and shoehorns
wedged crippled toes
into the "best of times."
It's been two years, one month, three weeks,
four days.

And I thought I could.

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Popped Umbrellas
Since my first marriage
had the flavor of old bubble gum.
Since my second was musical
chairs of a prison camp.
The only treeline being that
of need and deep sea dire
depressing tides where smiles
broke rules and were not tolerated,
where temples of tempers
stole cushions from hearts
and sex went solo, sadly enough.

I had a number of serious
sentence fragments
when it came to willing.
Of course, when love drifts by,
you jump on without much choice,
like a moving sidewalk
that jets toward joy
you just can't stop.
Dread's designated driver
gets drunk and you don't mind much.
Old brown boxes of sour fairy tales
are overdue library books
in the back seat of an old sedan,
so you return them shyly
and proceed as hummingbirds
that respect the flutter
of passion's heated wings.

Love's hieroglyphics
are kin to honeydew:
you just sense when
the season is right and slit it
when the moment strikes.
And we did.
Touchdowns came so naturally.
Umbrellas popping to meet clean rain.

Calamity's Quilt will be released by Newton's Baby Press on December 1st. Janet says that the book is 90 pages, perfect bound, with cover art by Cheryl Hight Carle and a foreword by Thomas Fortenberry and includes poems about disability, catharsis, relationships, grief, and social awareness. Calamity's Quilt will sell for $11.95 plus $3.20 shipping and handling, but if you order before the publication date, the book will be $10.00 with no shipping charge. To pre-order, go to:

Newton's Baby Press

or reserve a copy by writing to:

Calamity's Quilt Order
Newton's Baby Press
788 Murphey Street
Scottsdale, GA 30079

To visit Janet's Poet Portrait: January 98 - Poet Portrait
To visit Janet's other poems in various Seeker issues: Contributors' Index

Table of Contents

Letter to the Author:
Janet I. Buck at JBuck22874@aol.com