Author: Beth Lodge-Rigal

She wrote letters in crayon and Bic pen and lead She wrote letters in notebooks, in margins She wrote letters on monogrammed onionskin sheets She wrote letters to pen pals and lovers   She wrote letters on wandering cobblestones then She wrote letters on trains and in tunnels She wrote letters in cafes on evenings … Continue reading Day 8 -She Wrote Letters

I’ve given up hunting for the small diamond I spent years predicting would meet an unfortunate end. It stuck out too far from the ring and caught on sweaters, purse straps, and I didn’t know prongs needed to be tightened and, well, I also knew I was careless and couldn’t be trusted with gemstones or … Continue reading Day 7 Lost & Found

I Rag rug zig zag rocking comfort Pink Pig smiles in the corner   II Creature of order drawing drawn to parallels   III New York City Streets from the Air Bill Cunningham’s photo trends   IV We marched in lines kept good time the dependability of eighth notes rests in -between   V I … Continue reading April 6- 13 Ways of Looking

  I’d love to visit the grove of blooming redbuds on the edge of Daddy’s pasture all covered up now, since they built the reservoir, but I picture them purple trees, and about this time of year, the daffodils our folks planted after we married, swaying by the corner of the house.   If you … Continue reading April 5 Bottomlands

  Here. Here. Here.   You rise dark miracle of air, water, earth soft, servicing   tunnels of hunger that burrow back through time   fleeing warfire, bindle-wrapped package carefully portioned protected, pocketed   passed hand to mouth for ages becomes now, fuels the foot   that lifts to lead into a next moment live … Continue reading April 4 Enigma

  Days I wake remembering you in a bathtub, bubbles overflowing with your wine in a chipped goblet held aloft, I’m stricken again by the beauty of brevity, of curly haired boys who grow tall but not old.   Friend, tell me the story you never told about your father, who also died young , … Continue reading April 3 An Elegy

  Fridays she asked the butcher for a special blend of pork and ham which were and were not the same to me then, but mixed to make a third glorious thing for Sunday suppers.   Those were the days my grandmother held on to stale bread to make her own crumbs, eggs from Belva’s … Continue reading Ham Loaf

The moon, the trees the night flowers small grey frogs climb the night issuing song what alarm! stress for sex the longest call from the sturdy branch amphibious boys and girls cavort near vernal pools holler for their lives after winter’s quiet – the utter joyous dark of it I wonder if the world sounded … Continue reading Misc April Music