Poems

What was once on the now changed Todd Boss website for “Flurry”:
Solstice

Let this be the winter of removing never.

Fling it through the window into the snow
Deep among shadows
Where it belongs.

To celebrate
Set before us
Warmed wine
And that bowl of olives
Not one of them alike
Each of them splendid and slick
Stuffed with surprises
Salted and ready
Nearly first on the list
of things designed perfectly for the mouth
Coming just after your kiss.

Welcome this glittering season of always.

Susan Thurston
21 December 2005

Wren House

I have put out the houses.
Hope sways them, caught
just at the height to attract
his eye. The male wren

Will find them, list
and consider them until
he deems them worthy. Then
he will bring her. She

with her list and desires
needs, dreams. She who
captures his wren-fluttering
heart. And oh, what amazing
things he will tell her

with the trills and frills, his pulse
offered in, around, and under
deliberate and improvised jazzed
spring green aching clove scented notes.

I watch him. I am rooting for him.
I want her to find him
Splendid. Full of flaws she can
love into another song.

The North American Bird guide
states she will choose, then clear out
the home he presents. I know
In my rended-heart, this is not true.

What she does is clear
away his doubt. His show.
She tells him, I don’t want
your money, your diamond rings.

I don’t want any
thing, just your dawn song
and you, at gloaming.
Where it matters. You. Now.
Here. You. Now. Here. You.
-Susan Thurston
-May 2011

Daily I Fall in Love with Mechanics

by Susan Thurston

in response to Daily I Fall in Love with Waitresses by Elliot Fried

Daily I fall in love with mechanics
with their smudged coveralls and names embroidered
over where their hearts just might be
PETE STEWART RAY CHUCK BUTCH
and thick soled boots.
I love how they jack up my car
and press the pneumatic drill
to my tires and with hip
press lean into the whir of liberation
nuts and bolts falling
released from so much spinning
and holding everything tight in place.
I feel their hands
roughened by spark plugs and washer fluid
yet sweetened by overflowing oil pans
slide over me.
Their arms and shoulders
remind me of deep river valleys
and other places where we could tumble
after setting the parking brake…
fumbling and clutching so melodiously
I am left grateful for their engine knowledge.
Daily I fall in love with mechanics
with their grease smudged bad boy grins
and come hither wide opening garage doors.
They tell secrets in the pit
and I want them.
I know them.
They slip belts back into place
their legs diesel dark

They have lovers or spouses or children
or all.
They are strut bearing reliable—
they know how timing belts twist.
Their toothpick punctuated grins
reassure you they are giving you the best
deal in town and they would not let you drive
without checking all your fluid levels.
Daily I fall in love with mechanics.
They are better than Free Air
want my vehicle to be safe and sound
but they never travel far enough
before pulling the next car into the station.

“Daily I Fall in Love with Mechanics” by Susan Thurston. © Susan Thurston. Reprinted with permission of the author.

As appeared in “Writer’s Almanac” — 2011/02/08

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