Soup’s On! — “Where Are They Hiding?”

Perhaps, in sun falling flatly onto
aluminum foil on the kitchen counter —
or in these azalia flowers showing off
their bouquet of fusia red blossoms; or
nibbling teeth of the mouse sneaking
sunflower seeds dropped by the birds?

Staggering up our alley to the recycling center
that skinny man hunched under a sack of cans.
Where are they hiding?

Lined up like clothespins, those pigeons on electric wires —
our morning toast and coffee, even TV pictures
flowing in currents under their feet.
In the finger you’re kissing, smarting from
lemon juice seeping under your bandage.

Maybe in the star dust on the
big C on Mother’s gravestone?
Come out, wherever you are?

In the callused hands of the girl rolling her
wheelchair, so determined to cross the finish line.
Where are you, magical words?

Words that’ll spin this pen into an
ecstasy of sensate feelings, lines, stanzas — blaze
shine like Hopkin’s shook foil —
gold vermillion for you, readers, here —
Come out, come out, damn it!

Ah! From sea salt I kiss off your lips;
scent of sky before a snowfall;
white communion wafer snowflakes;
Oh! Wind see-sawing bare-branched winter trees;
Oh! In the warning ignored by the drowning ice fisherman?

Come out, come out of the sizzling onions;
cracking of splitting logs, blood throbbing your veins,
dirt under your fingernails from re-planting  geraniums;
Come out of the ozone after the storm and
oh  oh  oh  so much to hold.
Open your hands, nay, you will need a basket,
nay, a wheelbarrow,
yes, into your breath, into your heart,
you have room enough.


About Ciletti

Jim Ciletti, an award winning poet, filmmaker, and author, is the 2010-2012, Poet Laureate of the Pikes Peak region, and for 41 years, poet-in-residence for the Orme School Fine Arts Festival. Jim gives many workshops on the writing and performance of poetry, and makes poetry house calls to create personal poetry events. Ciletti loves everything Italian, including cooking for family and friends, and loves to plant garlic, make homemade wine, and eating peaches and plums. "Everyday is Christmas, but you don't always get everything you ask for. Sometimes more. Poetry celebrates life."
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