February 1, 2011

Two Poems by Kate Harding


Home, I hoe rust colored stalks
into the soil, cover potatoes,
curled like fetuses.
My shadow, that winter cloak,
sharpens and lengthens like anger.
Even our good-natured thief,
the squirrel fears me.

Daughter, when you return
in spring I'll plant bright poppies
and serve you buttered potatoes
with a sprig of green parsley.

Watering the Lemon Tree in a Dry Season

I nuzzle the hose
under a gray limb,
stream water
to the lip
of the clay pot.

Reflected in a circle
of clear water,
and my God face.

A Pushcart nominee for both poetry and fiction, Kate Harding's work has appeared most recently in the "San Diego Poetry Annual" and "Contemporary World Literature."

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