john walser

TODAY THE SKY SAYS FOR JULIE

You said last month
with hope and sorrow:
Soon it will be soup weather:

and today the rain mixes with sleet:
then blooms distinct flakes
large as ill-cut coins
that disappear when they hit
barely green lawns, blank sidewalks
folded brown and red leaves:
when they hit nothing:

and today the sky 
dirty as a root vegetable says:
Soup:

I’ll keep it simple this time:
carrots, celery, onion:
salt, pepper, garlic:
a simple stock:
as in another crock
I boil the chicken clean:

we drove to the country:
bought two: free range:
that hour butchered:
hoping for something 
nurture different delicious:

the first one though:
roasted: was nothing special:

so this second:

the legs and wings snipped off:
the breast hacked in half:
the whitening meat:
the darkening meat
fork pulled from cartilage 
and bones:

herbs de Provence:
fresh tarragon.

The almost dusk sky:

the edges of clouds:

like junk metal:

some trees: bare as flint:

stark as ink: 

I want when you get home

the house to simmer

and bouquet

like a blessing

like thanks:

and as I pour some wine:

I will let you choose:

linguine: rice: or nothing:

and we will sit at the kitchen table

the early darkness smudged away

by our steamed windows.

JOHN WALSER’S POEMS HAVE APPEARED IN NUMEROUS JOURNALS, INCLUDING SPILLWAY, WATER-STONE REVIEW, PLUME, NORTH DAKOTA QUARTERLY, POSIT AND DECEMBER MAGAZINE AS WELL AS IN THE ANTHOLOGY NEW POETRY FROM THE MIDWEST 2017. HIS MANUSCRIPT EDGEWOOD ORCHARD GALLERIES HAS BEEN A FINALIST FOR THE AUTUMN HOUSE PRESS PRIZE AND THE BALLARD SPAHR PRIZE AS WELL AS A SEMIFINALIST FOR THE PHILIP LEVINE PRIZE AND THE CRAB ORCHARD SERIES FIRST BOOK AWARD. AN ENGLISH PROFESSOR AT MARIAN UNIVERSITY-WISCONSIN, JOHN IS A FOUR-TIME SEMIFINALIST FOR THE NERUDA PRIZE.