Counterweight, and: Laden I, and: Laden II, and: Laden III, and: Mantis

Abstract

Counterweight, and: Laden I, and: Laden II, and: Laden III, and: Mantis Sonia Feldman (bio) Counterweight In the fall, the gardenfolds in on itself—grandstalk of kale on the groundlike a wilted chandelier,still green tomatoesthat missed their chanceat red and tomatillo lanternsscattered in the turned-upsoil. I can smell the earthrolling over in her bedclothes.I can see a crowd of brown fliesdancing verticallyin the four o'clock light.I find myself courting lossas a counterweightto the raucous goodfortune of being aliveand in possessionof the ones that I love. [End Page 147] Laden I The snow is too beautifulfor me to hate myself,at least while it's falling.Then arrives the evening,when its white banks glowlilac beneath complacentlight. Undoubtedly,a wind is blowing, thoughthe leaves have fallen offthe trees and cannot rustle,though I am insideand cannot be blown over.How quiet I have laidmyself in the waiting.When Spring comes(quick blooded)to claim me, will Istill rise to the soundof my name? [End Page 148] Laden II Snow drifts like the firstsoftness of a sweatshirt. Fat, lazy flakes caressthe frozen ground. What tires me out is allthis wanting. Once I kissed the skyfor its beckoning. Now I wait to be unleashed—but by whom? [End Page 149] Laden III I want to be loweredinto the earth or my computer. Rest beneath the weighted spacethat divides me from the world like a warm animal who won'tlet me move. There is nothing wrong with me;I just hope it keeps snowing. [End Page 150] Mantis There's a praying mantis in the garden.Bug the length of my hand climbing upan iris. Triangle eyes with dun pupilsthat watch me get closer.She's eaten some of her boyfriends,at least a fifth of them.I like her better for this punishingappetite. Maybe if I had six arms I couldbe so unflinching about pleasure or somatter-of-fact about its proximity to death. Cutting across the park at nightis one thing.Sun that gleams on my breasts unabashedis one thing.Phone that died in my pocket on brightis one thing.Smell of blood that belongs to meis one thing.Easy breaths on a speculumis one thing.Vibrator from the pharmacyis one thing.Porn good porn and it's fun not sadis one thing. —But to be the predator, to be the slowand approaching step at midnight, to be the handof consequence, to be the consequence, to bethe hungry, to be the four arms for fuckingand the two for eating, that is something else. [End Page 151] [End Page 152] Sonia Feldman Sonia Feldman Sonia Feldman is a poet and writer living in Cleveland, Ohio. She runs Sonia's Poem of the Week, an email newsletter sharing one good poem a week by someone other than herself with more than 1,500 readers. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in journals such as the Southern Review, the Normal School, and Chicago Quarterly Review. Copyright © 2021 The Curators of the University of Missouri