A Poem for Burnt Popcorn in November

by Rosanne Pagano

Tell me that some axis
has shifted and the
whole world is veering
and then whisper, “It’s normal
for November.”

Go ahead, make it up, fib,
lie, cross your heart and
hope to die (but not
in November; the cold earth
is hard to dig.)

Tell me November can’t

Pretend somewhere
it is spring and sunlight
and my mother is working
her crossword on the porch
before lunch.

Let’s forget for now
that life is as predictable
as applesauce on a cancer ward.

Instead you pack the picnic hamper,
I’ll take the oars. Let there be
a wide sky,
a big river,
a broad silence.

Just say no
to November, and
no one
gets hurt.


Pagano-mugRosanne Pagano has been teaching at APU since 2003, and she loves her job.

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