Author: Beth Lodge-Rigal

April 13 Mysterious How a body keeps breathing As the brain dies Watery kelp dance Wavering arms reaching Reaching for sunlight Visible through the murk Of your drowning I do not understand Or crave Would never choose This Ever Yet it seems sometimes We are asked To trawl the lagoon Witness without Diving in To … Continue reading Mysterious

On the receiving end of my mama’s latest house- keeping purge, she foists a squat silver candlestick into my hands. “Here. You must take this. See the teeth marks? They’re yours.” She gives me both my baby self and a relic rare luxury of her otherwise materially impoverished early marriage. Perhaps she’s offering an early … Continue reading Shine

Messing around in my Mother’s garden, I see now how tangled roots can make a person want to throw down the trowel. It takes muscle to claim your ground. How a prim pilgrim girl trembles in wonder as the Ship’s Captain removes his hat, his boots, the curtain of the cabin billows fair winds and … Continue reading Origins

When I walk into a room, I immediately say I’ve got all the answers. Cock my head to the side and make breathy eye contact like a real sociopath* from “DEMONSTRATE VALUE” by Amy Lawless (From Bibliomancy Oracle) ********** Sure, that’s me. I can look you right in the eye, seduce you with a lie. … Continue reading Gully Wash

Hum buzz under all I tune to, early blue sky day, after rain, pierced by the tea-kettle wren call, chickadee in major thirds, robin whistle “here, here, here I come”, a bluejay shriek tears the air. The squirrel scuttles on the rooftop, gruff snore of the very small dog, a jangle of metal tags from … Continue reading Little Book of Wondrous Sounds

Day 7 Summon joy like you would a child; call it home. It wanders, yes. But it’s still yours. The present, delivered in a dream, comes wrapped in an expandable box. Brown paper and kite string offer few clues, but your touch turns it blue, then yellow, then spring onion green, rectangle, octagon, a large … Continue reading Gifting

If the day breaks warm and clear, dries the wet ache of night if the great horned owl that haunts the trees halts its hunt if what cries out at midnight finds its way to safety, if fear moves to delight, if what claws, caresses, what shrieks, sings if day breaks over daffodils, white throated … Continue reading If

My mother rings again to say they’ve called, the prize patrol, this man she barely understands who promises two million maybe more a fancy car, a knock on the door and all she has to do is send a voided check to her it seems a reasonable bet. But no, I say, a common scam … Continue reading Sad Poem

The slim stationary box somehow preserved under stacks of composition notebooks workshop folders, flattened paper bags, saved with the illusion of recycling possibility, recovers memory. In the box, a scrap of a poem left in my high school locker. The boy inspired me to wear white Jack Purcell sneakers with my Levi straight Leg Jeans, … Continue reading Meander; Swedish Death Cleaning Day

The empty cookie jar begs the question Who ate the last ginger snap? The mower in the yard begs the question Who went to fill the gas can? The sock on the stair begs the question Where is its mate? The unfurled toilet role begs the question Again? The battered mailbox begs the question Of … Continue reading Begging the Question