House of the Tomato

If a woman wants to be a poet, she must dwell in the house of the tomato. -- Erica Jong

Regional website for the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets, in partnership with the Reader's Loft.


Celebrating, sharing and inspiring poetry throughout Wisconsin.


One of my work poems... let me know what you think!


                             My supervisor whortles the store
with her stick legs. My arms are full
of her suggestions. 

I might know what to do.

                             She gives me pages from her catalog.
There is not enough embroidery. Motivation is no
a uniform.

I twitch the stitches, waiting.

                             I have learned not to interrupt, at least.
She chatters long fingers, fasioning a ball with
the air. The past is a harbinger of the future.

She is convinced.

                             Somehow I feel her benefiting. 
The recession of her gums, I think. Or perhaps
the Lego® cap of hair, too brown, shiny,

setting snare to my eyes.

                             I shrug the need for silence, my
shoulders unequal with listening. The future is
a magic hat. Abracadabra, I would take her words,

if only I weren't feeling so managed.

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