Weekly Write: “The Fig Tree” by Romana Iorga

The Fig Tree

We walk down the path with our children.
Dust rises behind us like smoke.

The ground is littered with figs:
small purple bodies
burst open to show their red seeds.

Foreignness blooms quietly inside their wounds.

All these years I wished to be whole,
my fragmented self constantly rearranging
its pieces to suit new surroundings.

Now I find the puzzle all wrong, some pieces
not only missing but clearly irretrievable.

The picture I have in front of my eyes
tells lies. It fractures faces, contorts
limbs, splits bodies in two.

Everything’s backwards: the sky

holds a bodiless earth on its plate; the giant fig trees
point downward like ingrown toenails.

I look at the pattern of leaves above our heads.
Solid branches crisscross this way and that, each
with its purpose – a self-contained universe
to which we cannot belong.

Here are my leaves –

they form passageways of dense shadows,
where the light
travels unencumbered, precise
before hitting the ground and dying
on impact.

Here are my limbs –

they mold the air, they push it
downward,
toward the scattered figs on the ground,
toward these lonely people
scattered among the figs.

 

Originally from Chisinau, Moldova, Romana Iorga is a  Romanian-American poet living in Switzerland. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Ruminate, saltfront, Borderlands, as well as on her poetry blog at clayandbranches.com.

 

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2019 Anthology.

Click here check out Parade: Swimming with Elephants Publications Anthology 2018 available for only $10.95.

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Weekly Write: “A Poet Is” by Romana Iorga

A Poet Is

1.
An eel, open-mouthed at the mouth
of its burrow, borrowing time
until the right prey comes along.

Fish glide by with their frivolous tails
of who kissed whom in the seaweed
and who got in trouble with the shark.

2.
An owl, morose on its branch,
hungry for three days now and counting,
waiting for the big game.

Mice won’t suffice any longer. No to juvenile
rabbits, daft foxes, reckless raccoons.
A moose would be good.

3.
A spider, spinning constantly, greedily, not
so patiently, slowly becoming Whitman
of the white beard and wide-brimmed hat.

Then, erasing the web, one strand
at a time, for perceived flaws. Nothing
ever catches in the unraveling snare.

4.
A child, whose quick hand traps the tail
of a lizard. He watches it wriggle in the dirt,
while the prey darts for its life.

Swift, swift, swiftly into the blessed
shadow of weeds, into the yawning
jaws of a snake, who’s not even

a poet.

 

Originally from Chisinau, Moldova, Romana Iorga is a  Romanian-American poet living in Switzerland. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Ruminate, saltfront, Borderlands, as well as on her poetry blog at clayandbranches.com.

 

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2019 Anthology.

Click here check out Parade: Swimming with Elephants Publications Anthology 2018 available for only $10.95.