Poetry Magazine, Judith S. Offer, October 2000

Poetry Magazine

Judith S. Offer

USA

LEAVING BELLE

Weeding winter out of the garden,
I find her tennis ball, algae-green.
This time I toss it into the weed bucket:
The realtor says everything not needed should go;
The emptier the house, the better it will show.

They'll never know about her bones:
Burned and boxed, they are buried
Beneath the ivy below the apple,
Where raccoons reconnoiter, shaded and low.
The neater the garden, the better it will show.

She flumps down the deck steps,
Flomps on the grass, tail knocking,
Watching me ponder, waiting for me to take
Her ball out of the weed pail to throw.
Everything not needed should go.

She can't go for a car ride to Pasadena.
My hand reaches to pet her pillowy fur,
Warm from her snooze on her deck.
Everything not needed should go.
The emptier the house, the better it will show.

WHAT I HAVE TO SAY

What I have to say cannot be heard over a roar.
You will have to turn down your TV, take off your earphones,
And close your calendar.

What I have to say won't rise in the market,
Where agents and salesmen and women of value
Know they have heard it all.

Your mouth may form oaths;  your printer may make copies;
Your boss may threaten consequences;  your doctor
May prescribe death.

What I have to say is:  none of these will be remembered.
Something is simpler and stronger and softer and sweeter
Than all of these.

What I have to say is:  lean toward the universe,
Listen to the quiet, bend to the morning,
Honor yourself.

That is all I have to say.