Judy Lechner
Memory
Like a childhood bully, the question appears out of nowhere
to drag you under
the water
to watch you flail
terrified
as you search
frantically
for the lost person,
place, thing, event.
It likes to see you squirm as you claw
the dirty water,
coughing out
bits of garbage,
your heart
almost giving
out till---
slippery skinned
as fishes,
images shimmer
to the surface.
Caught on your hook, words and pictures struggle on the line
till you grasp
them firmly in hand.
You pull the memory
from the
brownish sludge
and then
only
then
does it gift you
with its names.
Ode To A Scrub Sponge
Humble helper
patiently scrubbing off the debris of living
how easily you erase the diversity of dirt
that mars your surface.
With the aid of improbably colored soaps
blue, green, red.
Our ancestors scraped skins, wood, clay
with knives lately bloodied with carnage.
We live within bubbles of cleanliness
that promise death to invisible adversaries
for millennia unimagined.
How clean we are
with our lifetimes tripled from the ancient thirty.
In large part due to you, guardians of our stomachs.
Ancient killers subdued,
we are infected with newer enemies
slowly producing the same inevitable effect.
About the Author
Judy Lechner wrote her first poem at age 10 and will, with the least encouragement,
recite it for you. She has been a featured reader in many venues in Ulster County
and is a longtime member of the poetry groups: Goat Hill Poets for over 20 years
and has read in many of their performances, Woodstock Poetry Society, and Poets
House in New York. Her poetry collection
The Moon Sings Back was published
in 2011 and her poems have appeared in
Chronogram. Half Moon Review, ASK
25, Home Planet News, Jews, Green Heron, Liteary Gazette and in
Tattoo
where she won a prize for her haiku. She is a retired reading and English
teacher and was an editor and writer for Macmillan and Scholastic among other
publishers for 45 years.
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