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Best of Irish Poetry 2009
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CRYSTAL STONE

 

 

 

crystal stoneCrystal Stone recently won first place in the Poetry Matters Celebration Competition. Her poetry is forthcoming in North Central Review, and previously appeared in Dylan Days, The Sigma Tau Delta Rectangle, Badlands Literary Journal, Green Blotter, and Jet Fuel Review. She's passionate about poetry, film, and literature. In her free time, she tutors an adult learner in Meadville, PA.

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Breathless Autumn

        after Joy Katz

 

The Wright brothers staked out a deserted beach in autumn

where their glider-kite dropped from nearby trees in wind. 

Pegasus was still trying to jump over the moon

when Squanto’s wife was canoeing with her children.

The Mayflower’s name is misleading. Mums were blooming

when it arrived at the rock and the passengers realized

they didn’t know a thing about fish or food in this new land.

Rosalind Franklin stayed inside, lab-coat white, preparing

data to be stolen (accidentally) the following year and

Watson’s partner Crick drank apple cider in his yellow sweater

bragging that he knew “the secret to life”.

Marie Curie, when she was born, looked into the future—

orange leaf-print in the window. The faint blue of waning day.

Remember the morning after, when George Washington

slept in with his wife at a hotel in Virginia?

Or how the groundhogs hibernated through days of harvest?

I became insane, Poe wrote, beneath a cheap reading lamp.

Students at a nearby university thought they had no stories to tell,

but Buffalo Bill didn’t feel the same. He traveled the Plains,

show-stage in tow, giving America a taste of the real Wild West.

Turkeys in a November woods felt safe—now rest

gobble-stopped on families’ Thanksgiving spreads. 

The truth is not for all men, Ayn Rand rolled her eyes

and put out her cigarette at the sight of her own blackened lungs.

Crazy Horse smoked tobacco until he died, when the leaves were yellow-green

but his daughter had no chance to miss him.

God punished Eve for apple-breath after a walk in a fruitful orchard.

By the firelight, Western children now form a ring-around-a-rosie

forgetting the autumn cries of the Black Plague or the one—it was almost December—

when Zagajewski questioned the season. What is its origin? he asked.

Why should it destroy dreams, arbors, memories? Breathless autumn.

 

 

©2014 Crystal Stone

 

 

Author Links

 

Poems by Crystal Stone in Jet Fuel Review

'Observing Silence at the Baha'i House of Worship, Wilmette, IL': poem in Green Blotter

'Cultural and Personal': poem by Crystal Stone in The Sigma Tau Delta Rectangle

 

 

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