Writing September
by Margaret Rozga

My hand heavy, or my mind.
The words slow, or my winter-headed heart.
The squash vines, some mammoth upright green
leaves cupped toward the fog-veiled sun
no longer hide the under-story, thinning
yellowing.  A few ants withdrawing.

Petunias in their protected corner
a patch near the warm brick of the house
still purple as prayer, salmon as song.
A bee hovers as if in tune, then flies on.

I pull out the shriveled flower heads,
my thumb and forefinger, oh, how sticky
with the fragrant residue of bloom.
Without washing it away, can I break and scramble
eggs for breakfast, spread toast thick with raspberry jam?
I do not get up, do not move
drink in these moments when words satisfy like food.


Margaret Rozga’s poems have been published recently in
, Weave, and Memoir (and).  The Wisconsin Library
Association recently named her book
Two Hundred Nights and
One Day
an outstanding achievement in Poetry for 2009.

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Apple Valley Review:
A Journal of Contemporary

ISSN 1931-3888

Volume 5, Number 2
(Fall 2010)

Copyright © 2010
by Leah Browning, Editor.  

All future rights to material
published in the
Valley Review
are retained
by the individual authors
and artists.