TUESDAY: Refined


Copyright is held by the author.

New to this mountainous area, looking blank      dull

like I needed enlightenment, my bigfoot handyman

told me to watch out for Pike County potatoes that will

pop up from my mossy lawn to twist my ankle, break my

revolving mower blade and my world out of shape.

I thanked him, making my face smile like I imagined

country people smile                   a smile I would never

have given on my old screeching subway ride to work.

I would have to learn that stones are softened into

potatoes here                      a place where food

walks across my driveway gobbling watching us

wave to each other                 never knowing when

one of us may need to cook its substance in our waiting pot.


Image of Susan Shea

Susan Shea, a retired school psychologist, who was born in New York City, and now lives in a forest in Pennsylvania. This year, her poems have been accepted in a few dozen publications, including Across the Margin, Avalon Literary Review, Ekstasis, Feminine Collective, and Military Experience and the Arts, and New English Review.