Northwest at Raven
Instructions
on Where to Find Me
By Ronda Broatch
This morning I will let my arm dangle
over an edge of the laundry basket. I’ll hang
from the clothesline, my bright legs
banners for travelers and towhees.
It is arranged: my spidery hair is set
to marry the web in the garden’s midst;
what wisps are left will feather
a nest of ravens. I’ve left
one foot in the grave
light behind the house; the other a mis-
matched sock gone beyond
where retired souls play mahjong all day.
As for my head, you’ll find it
buried in a guidebook for obsolete mothers,
gardeners, and other such poets.
My organs, organised, paginated,
packaged and affixed with proper postage
await acceptance or rejection
with the exception of my heart,
which is to remain at home.
Have you seen my breasts?
I left them resting in the sand,
a milk-white pair of moon snail
shells forever caressed by the tide.
But my spirit resides in the black bear’s skin
our breath sending signals to sky.
lives in Kingston with her
husband and two children, chickens, goldfish, leopard
gecko, and several little gardens. She teaches weight
lifting and Pilates, and has been known to write while on
the treadmill.
Publication credits include Atlanta Review, Exhibition
Magazine, Pontoon 6, Rain Dog, Raven
Chronicles, Literary Mama, and Poetry on Buses
(Metro). Other pieces are forth-coming in Calyx,
and the anthology, The Human Growth Experiment.
Ronda was a winner in the 2003 Pacific Northwest
Writer’s Association Literary Contest. Her poem “Grace
Baking” was nominated for the Pushcart Prize (2003).