Norma Ketzis Bernstock

Brazilian Rosewood

He lifts the massive
wood block
from the floor,
places it onto
his workbench
gently, with love
he holds her,
positions a plane
over rough texture
dense brown
Dalbergia nigra
streaked with red,
his body bent
over grainy veneer
over a cradle,
back and forth
in rhythm,
smoothing the
purple chips,
soothing the
sleepy child,
forward and back
muscles flex,
mind and body
at one in motion,
hands on wood
that he loves,
on hair so soft,
he sighs..

Stillwater Review 2013


Why I Live Where I Live

Meet me on Old Mine Road
near Bevans Church and
I will tell you about
that snowy February day
on the gravel trail
near Van Campen’s Inn,
air, ice fresh,
rock-strewn fields
like whipped cream swirls,
sounds of foraging
mice, snow crystals
shifting in afternoon sun,
the click of a Nikon
as we pushed knee-deep
through drifts
shooting crumbling
barns and shadows
cast by barren limbs
in late day light.

I will tell you about
the lone house near
the river’s edge
warm with yellow light,
how wisps of smoke
like wind-blown kite tails
danced above a slanted roof,
how a memory of one day
can change a life.

Voices From Here 2009


Fear
           I’ve been absolutely terrified every moment of my life and I’ve never let it keep me
           from doing a single thing I wanted to do.   Georgia O’Keefe

I have a friend who never drives
to my Pennsylvania home from New York.
She’s afraid to drive over bridges,
but not afraid of buses, trains or subways,
slashers or psychopaths who push
unsuspecting commuters onto tracks.

My mother feared my father’s rage,
all her actions designed to keep him calm.
I, too, feared my husband—
not his rage, but his silence.

Afraid to ride solo on his motorcycle,
I became the babe in the back.
But the day my husband silently left,
rage powered up the bike and fearless
I coasted out of the garage, shifted smoothly
from first into third, owned the bike
from that day forward.

But fear ambushes my mind at night:
What will old age look like if I am alone?
Who will know when I need help?
Who will I call at the end to feed my cat?

Lips 2019


About the Author

Norma Ketzis Bernstock lives in Milford, Pennsylvania where she is a member of the Upper Delaware Writers Collective and the Writers’ Roundtable in New Jersey. Her poetry has appeared online at Your Daily Poem, has been been featured on WJFF Catskill Radio and has appeared in print and online journals and anthologies including Stillwater Review, Exit 13, US 1 Worksheets, Connecticut River Review, Paterson Literary Review and Rattle. Her chapbook, Don’t Write a Poem About Me After I’m Dead, was published by Big Table Publishing with another chapbook in process.

Her previous achievements include a Geraldine R. Dodge Foundation Scholarship to the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, Massachusetts, recognition by the Allen Ginsberg Poetry Awards and a Pushcart Prize nomination.

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