Repast, poems by Donna Prinzmetal
Donna Prinzmetal is a poet, psychotherapist and teacher. She has taught poetry and creative writing for more than 25 years to adults and children. Donna often uses writing to facilitate restoration and healing in her psychotherapy practice. Her poems have appeared in many magazines including Prairie Schooner, The Comstock Review, and The Journal. Her first book, Snow White, When No One Was Looking, was published with CW Books in May of 2014. www.amazon.com/Snow-White-When-One-Looking www.facebook.com/DonnaPrinzmetalSnowWhite
Newly Discovered Portrait of my Mother
with Ocotillo and Grape fruit
In the desert
my young mother stands in profile
next to her own shadow–
porcelain neck, dark glamorous hair,
red blossoms on the tips of ocotillo.
Last night I was a barn owl,
those long diagonal eye slits chiseled
into my heart-shaped face.
After years of collecting
the soft moans of strangers,
my mouth is hollow
possessed by all the lost words.
From the white wall, my mother’s hair
blinks back the blinding light.
She is looking away from me.
Before my body froze
I was always smoldering
in the astonished sunlight
where grapefruits thump
from their lofty perches,
yellow skin rising about the grass.
In another picture, my young mother
is laughing from a porch swing. Even in black
and white, I can see the plump red lips,
the hibiscus in her hair.
for my mother
After your long love affair with food
you had lost your appetite.
I could hardly stand it.
We both knew it wouldn’t be long.
Then you came home from the hospital
finally hungry, even starving even, your gift to me.
It was my birthday week.
I would have fixed anything you wanted
to see your mouth form a dark O,
your eyes crinkling with delight: tuna
and cottage cheese with lemon.
I so wanted you to eat and you did,
the first time all week. I was so glad
to fix you another portion. The air
was warm for December. Your hands
shook a little but you seemed grateful for
breathing, though hard, grateful for the food,
and the sun. When you finished eating,
I held your hand.
© Donna Prinzmetal