Poems by Deirdre LaPenna



On icy days,

one must feel the ground

with one's feet,

and say whoa nellie to the urge

to walk spritely

into the brisk air.



ODE on a

         The corn lady sleeps in a tissue box.
      In the morning I put her on my made bed.
         My dog, Jupiter, chewed the purgatory
         of my corn lady's head.

      This christmas-giver can only be heaven or hell now.

              The beans stand upright in a bottle.
        Two days the beans had babies that

              up in my bedroom.

      Dispersed are the love-thoughts we have,
                   we christmas-givers,


A Yarn Well-woven Need Not be Spoken

So run, and with the wind I think I might
unravel. See the yarn become the fright.
The fright, a yarn,
untangles, and I let it drop,
fall down and float away. (The wine becomes the sap.)

So fall, and in the hole there is a blight
to level. See my strength not meet my height.
My height, too strong,
it shrinks, and I drop the weight,
sinks in and is blanketed. (The dish becomes the plate.)

So dig, and through the covers reach the light
a little. See the dark become the white.
The white, a dark
uncovered and a tutor, will
nod, kiss and make better. (The hunt becomes the kill.)

So fly, and for the sun I let politeness
revel. See the loose become the tight.
The tight, footloose,
untangles, and I let it drop,
fall down and float away. (The start becomes the stop.)


"You are fatter than you were."
We lie
stomach to ass
in warm bed
and talk about the day.


From Buds a book of poetry by deirdre lapenna Copyright ca. 1979 by Deirdre LaPenna. Deirdre LaPenna studied Fine Arts at the University of Colorado. She lives and works on Long Island.

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