—a golden shovel from “Talking to Grief”—Denise Levertov

 

I’ve been searching for a potato like this one—ah,
golden, unblemished and round—good grief,

see how it glows, backlit by sun, cellophaned in water as I
scrub it in the sink. And now, my mind moves on: you should

make the meatloaf, feed the dog. No, the dog is dead. Not
loping across the yard, not napping, not gulping a treat.

The shimmering moment before you,
mind, trotted out the dog: I want it back, like

I want the dog back. Yes, the moment when I beheld a
potato and its possibilities, temporarily homeless,

between its field of origin and the one with the absent dog.

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After a career as a biomedical writer, Mary Specker Stone pursued graduate studies in medical rhetoric, earning her M.A. from Northern Arizona University. She turned to poetry during her years as a college English instructor, publishing poems in various journals including Image Journal, The Healing Art of Writing, vol. 1, New Verse News, Gyroscope Review, and Gleam. Now a certified spiritual director, she lives in the Phoenix area, where she leads poetry salons and serves as a spiritual companion to writers and artists. Her chapbook, Valentine’s Dinner at Wren & Wolf, was published this year by Finishing Line Press.

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