Sample Poems by Susan Sindall
An Oven
In my charred oven,
ravioli’s bursting open, will burst and spill.
The heat’s too high and just right.
From the back of my oven,
half-lidded yellow eyes,
a stirring of shiny charcoal fur,
bumpy tail curled to nose.
Use has scratched
leathery paw pads with
cross-hatched,
white hieroglyphics.
Have you been sleeping here since your death?
Have I roasted my companion?
Framed, Unfinished
Black starlings soar across the variegated
ocean blues in an unfinished painting. Her belly
a curve of sail, Mary walks with Joseph
at the horse’s head. Starlings hurtle past
them, upside-down. Molly’s behind, unseen.
In the central panel—baby, mother,
seated lions—a Franciscan swings a basket
of blue thistles over artichokes with porcupine
green spokes. Then No at the inn and everyone
kneeling with gilt and perfume babies can’t use.
Sunlight on brocade turbans, white kerchiefs.
When Molly’s baby sat facing mine, fat cheeks
wobbling with pleasure just to be in warm air,
they started kissing with great greedy
suckings as if the other were a nipple.
We laughed until we cried, leaning on
one another. Until the starlings
hit their target. Blue and green lines
framed her navel to guide radiation
through her clear skin; starlings blackened
her lungs and nested inside bone marrow.
Only Mary strides across the canvas.
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