The skunk waddles across the field; thick fur
shimmering like mink on a well-to-do woman,
oblivious of me, crouched, cold, and muddy,
cutting Bok choy. Generations of confidence
exudes as she crosses the fallen apples,
just body lengths away. She ripples and scurries
across sprinkled snow, under electric fence,
between mounds of compost, a dollop of cream
on her head. I recall the laughing, tossed-hair-girl
I tried to be—in Beverly Hills when I faked,
then watched to learn how to peel an artichoke.
In New Haven, fascinated, but poker-faced over
tiny crystal salt bowls with silver spoons,
at my Mid-Western hippie college, puzzled
when rejected from a theater company,
but invited to their potlucks. Veiled questions
with scripted answers. Did you take lessons?
Where did you grow up? What does your father do?
This field divides into scuffed backyards and vacation
homes. Bending over my half-full basket, I admire
the black and white beauty out the corner of my eye.
She knows where I am, does not look at me.
If approached, she will put me in my place.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 26, Issue 2.
Lisa Wujnovich writes poetry at Mountain Dell Farm in Hancock, NY. Her chapbooks are Fieldwork and This Place Called Us, anthologies include Ghost Fishing, an Eco-Justice Poetry Anthology. Other poems appear in Collateral, Calyx, NOW, The Wide Shore, 5A.M., Naugatuck River Review, High Canary, and FEDCO catalog among others. I Know How to be Helpful, a limited edition, letterpress printed book by Z’roah Press features Lisa’s poem by the same name.
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