Maren O. Mitchell |
What we don’t know
after this one death that we know about, that hasn’t neglected any
are there others with relatable beings, this planet where
so many leaves, morning glory, sweet potato, wild violet, are heart-shaped,
and did we adopt the heart shape from them, finding our hearts
in the elements naked, little hair, no color variations to turn on
for camouflage, and then, why does distant thunder sound companionable
while we’re outside within a mild day, adding atmosphere,
and we with no concern for those under the storms, the gods throwing
their interminable tantrums of power, yet, as thunder nears, we note
our smallness, until overhead rumbles sound personal, fate catching
up with us as we hear our clock, so we busy ourselves with cooking potato soup,
watching an old sitcom, and why, when the rain drips from leaf tips,
the outside world is a new world, clean as Eden, a mini-spring,
obviously filled with lives so much shorter than ours,
flying, mating, singing, crawling, unquestioning—being, can’t we?
Mitchell has taught poetry at Blue Ridge Community College, Flat Rock, NC, and cataloged at the Carl Sandburg Home National Historic Site. For over thirty years, across five southeastern states, she has taught origami, the Japanese art of paper folding.
Mitchell’s poems appear in The Antigonish Review (Canada), Still: The Journal, The Cortland Review, The MacGuffin, POEM, The Comstock Review, Tar River Poetry, Poetry East, Hotel Amerika, Appalachian Heritage, Pedestal Magazine, The South Carolina Review, Southern Humanities Review, Appalachian Journal and elsewhere. Work is forthcoming in Cider Press Review, POEM, Slant, Tar River Poetry and Chiron Review.
Two poems, “X
Is a Kiss on Paper” and “T, Totally Balanced,” have been
nominated for Pushcart Prizes. In 2012 she received 1st Place Award
for Excellence in Poetry from the Georgia Poetry Society. Her nonfiction book, Beat Chronic Pain, An Insider’s Guide, (Line of Sight Press, 2012) www.lineofsightpress.com is on
Amazon.