Zoom Hour

by M.J. Iuppa

Sitting in the discomfort of being here, I know you are listening

and not listening; I know you have things on your mind. I know

you are looking at your keyboard, doing two things at once; wishing

the cat would jump up on your lap, or the dog begging to have its

head scratched, or your 8-year-old, who has been quiet all morning,

pleading outside your workroom for a cheese & mustard sandwich

on soft white bread, without crusts, and cut into triangles & served

on the red plate that says: This Is Your Day.

                                        And, you will shout as we read your lips:

 Wait, I am trying to do something. Give me a minute.

I know you’re listening for the reassuring sound of your child’s full

body thud just outside your door, and those tiny nails (you really

should clip those nails), dragging against the hardwood floor, in

that slow, deep scratch that takes your breath & proves that I know

you are listening and not listening; I can see your eyes close, even

as I am talking, and I am grateful that you showed up today. I know

you know time is precious. You don’t need to hear it.

                                       Refresh— start, again.

M.J. Iuppa’s fourth poetry collection is This Thirst (Kelsay Books, 2017). For the past 32 years, she has lived on a small farm near the shores of Lake Ontario. Check out her blog for her musings on writing, sustainability & life’s stew. Varada J.M is a 9th-grader based in Kerala’s Koyilandi, studying at Rani Public School, Vadakara. After hurriedly doing homework, Varada divides her time between practicing classical dance and watching horror films. She loves dogs but nobody at home wants one.    

Two Poems

by M.J.Iuppa

Ephemeral, lasting—

Beneath our flowering crabapple,
                                       a halo of deep
pink lies loosely around its foot, like
                                    a dropped skirt; un-
disturbed by wind, or a passing creature,
                                       whose dragging belly
clears a path to fallen bird seed, or a sudden
                                       cold rain softening
petals to nothing, as if  they were spun
                                        sugar in noon’s
sticky heat— a vague knowledge of what
                                        was there —
I stand breathless at the screen, looking
                                         at the wet grass
and leaves dripping, a deeper shade
                                         of green.

In Every Way

Gloom settles inside
a wood’s green haze, just
before leaves appear

to be there, in figures
few count on, but notice
when trees stand without

cover, without whispers of
birds wanting to nest high
above— without welcoming

the sway of wind drifting
in & out of touch, like
the divine breaths

our lungs forget with-
out warning of a plague’s
return in winter, which

makes us wish we could
wake up without our
bodies— without

an impulse on how
to survive  this.

M.J. Iuppa  is the Director of the Visual and Performing Arts Minor Program and Lecturer in Creative Writing at St. John Fisher College, and currently a part-time lecturer in Creative Writing at The College at Brockport. She was awarded the New York State Chancellor’s Award for Excellence in Adjunct Teaching in 2017. She has four full-length poetry collections: This Thirst (Kelsay Books, 2017), Small Worlds Floating (2016) and Within Reach (2010) from Cherry Grove Collections; Night Traveler (Foothills Publishing, 2003), and five chapbooks. She lives on a small farm in Hamlin, NY.  Varada J.M. is a 9th-grader based in Kerala’s Koyilandi, studying at Rani Public School, Vadakara. After hurriedly doing homework, Varada divides her time between practicing classical dance and watching horror films. She loves dogs but nobody at home wants one.