There Is Another Way

Image by Couleur

There is another way to enter an apple: 

a worm’s way. 

The small, round door 

closes behind her. The world 

and all its necessities 

ripen around her like a room. 

In the sweet marrow of a bone, 

the maggot does not remember 

the wingspread 

of the mother, the green 

shine of her body, nor even 

the last breath of the dying deer. 

I, too, have forgotten 

how I came here, breathing 

this sweet wind, drinking rain, 

encased by the limits 

of what I can imagine 

and by a husk of stars.

~ Pat Schneider

There Is Another Way

Image by Couleur

There is another way to enter an apple: 

a worm’s way. 

The small, round door 

closes behind her. The world 

and all its necessities 

ripen around her like a room. 

In the sweet marrow of a bone, 

the maggot does not remember 

the wingspread 

of the mother, the green 

shine of her body, nor even 

the last breath of the dying deer. 

I, too, have forgotten 

how I came here, breathing 

this sweet wind, drinking rain, 

encased by the limits 

of what I can imagine 

and by a husk of stars.

~ Pat Schneider

The Patience of Ordinary Things

Source: Tumblr/Favim

It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
Or toes. How soles of feet know
Where they’re supposed to be.
I’ve been thinking about the patience
Of ordinary things, how clothes
Wait respectfully in closets
And soap dries quietly in the dish,
And towels drink the wet
From the skin of the back
And the lovely repetition of stairs.
And what is more generous than a window?

~ Pat Schneider

The Patience of Ordinary Things

Source: Tumblr/Favim

It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
Or toes. How soles of feet know
Where they’re supposed to be.
I’ve been thinking about the patience
Of ordinary things, how clothes
Wait respectfully in closets
And soap dries quietly in the dish,
And towels drink the wet
From the skin of the back
And the lovely repetition of stairs.
And what is more generous than a window?

~ Pat Schneider