by Marjorie Thomsen

To get lost is to learn the way—
printed sun-yellow on my apron.
I didn’t tell the man get lost when he said
“Me Too! I’d like to have you in bed.”
He’d been drinking beers in the hottest sun

but I listened and listened to how he’s lost
and a little broken about mortality, its cost.
Perhaps stuck at age eleven when his mother died.
To get lost is to learn the way

eventually. The man is almost sixty.
Because I’m afraid to make sunchoke soup, my apron’s not gritty
and years ago I played it safe when I should have been alive
in a beloved’s bed getting lost
to learn the way.

To get lost is to learn the way—
printed sun-yellow on my apron.
I didn’t tell the man get lost when he said
“Me Too! I’d like to have you in bed.”
He’d been drinking beers in the hottest sun

but I listened and listened to how he’s lost
and a little broken about mortality, its cost.
Perhaps stuck at age eleven when his mother died.
To get lost is to learn the way

eventually. The man is almost sixty.
Because I’m afraid to make sunchoke soup, my apron’s not gritty
and years ago I played it safe when I should have been alive
in a beloved’s bed getting lost
to learn the way.

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Marjorie Thomsen loves teaching others how to play with words and live more poetically in the world. She is the author of Pretty Things Please (Turning Point, 2016). Two poems from this collection were read on The Writer’s Almanac. One of Marjorie’s poems about hiking in a dress and high heels was made into a short animated film. She has been nominated several times for a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. She is the recipient of poetry awards from the University of Iowa School of Social Work, Poetica Magazine, and others. Publications include Pangyrus, Rattle, SWWIM Every Day, and Tupelo Quarterly. Marjorie has been a Poet-in-Residence in schools throughout New England. She is a psychotherapist and instructor at Boston University’s School of Social Work.

by Marjorie Thomsen

for Wendy DeGroat

a seedling pushing through ash is worlds away

from morning’s lawnmower, neighborhood turkey vulture

and its shock of magnificence above children

rapt with a small ball. Her lines bring a woman’s

hands to life: cayenne onto the chick peas. I ache

for the mundane but come evening, will try to woo

something celestial to my open and undraped window.

Deep-end blue napery on table, swaying wildflowers

in a funky-shaped vase. I swear I’ll make nectarine-cardamom

jam to sing into the deep bowl of morning. Before bed and dreams

without words, there’s the private act of serene ablutions—

lather of warm water and rose soap. Her poems.

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Marjorie Thomsen is the author of Pretty Things Please and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Poems have been read on The Writer’s Almanac and she has received awards from the New England Poetry Club and the University of Iowa. A poem about hiking in high heels is being made into a short animated film. She recently earned certification to become a Poet-in-Residence in the Boston Public Schools.