Two Poems
Claudia Serea


 
All the roads were smoldering
 
My father’s face rippled,
a torn flag.
 
Each time I thought of him,
something ignited:
the dry corn fields,
the woods,
the grasslands.
 
And the October light,
falling through his eyeglasses,
set fire to the newspaper
on the kitchen table.
 
I could taste the ashes in my mouth.
 
And the smell,
the clinging odor of smoke
I wore in my hair,
a mourning headscarf,
for days.
 
I collected tears
in a tin cup
 
to throw them
into the fire.
 
A cinder bird flew
through the open window,
bringing a message,
 
a spark.
 
I saw it,
rising to the ceiling.
 
 

 
Ode to the onion
 
With your rings,
your many silk dresses,
and translucent veils,
 
you rise up from the dirt,
its runaway bride.
 
Allium cepa,
warrior princess of the underground,
uncertain descendant
of a 7,000 years old dynasty
from India, China, or Iran,
 
you were worshipped in ancient Egypt,
a symbol of eternal life.
 
You traveled to Pompeii
and cured the Romans of sores,
toothaches, dog bites, lumbago,
and dysentery,
 
then showed up in Greece
and conquered France.
 
The spade unearths your gleaming fists,
your golden paper armor,
 
and the knife undresses you,
peels back the scales
to reveal
mother-of-pearl flesh.
 
And your scent!
Your pungent smell has the power
to conjure the past
and make everyone weep
for its riots and tragedies.
 
You share the destiny
of every woman in the world:
 
Firm,
until the knife enters you
and you fall apart,
throwing tear gas
and sizzle,
 
then caramelize,
turn soft,
and whisper.
 
And, in the end, you step back
and let the show go on.
 
Transparent, glorious, glazed,
you disappear,
 
leaving behind your sweetness
as a gift,
so others can shine on.










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About the Author: Claudia Serea’s poems and translations have been published in Field, New Letters, Prairie Schooner, The Mahalat Review, Asymptote, and elsewhere. She is the author of five poetry collections, most recently Twoxism, a collaboration with photographer Maria Haro (8th House Publishing, Canada, 2018) and Nothing Important Happened Today (Broadstone Books, 2016). Serea’s poem My Father’s Quiets Friends in Prison, 1958-1962 received the 2013 New Letters Readers Award. She won the Levure Littéraire 2014 Award for Poetry Performance and the 2006 New Women’s Voices competition. Serea co-founded and edits National Translation Month, and she co-hosts The Williams Poetry Readings in Rutherford, NJ.

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