Peggy Poet’s New Poems: Sciences of Silence

POET PEGGY MILLER, A TRUE FRIEND AND TRUE HEART, ANNOUNCED the upcoming publication of her fourth collection of poems, Sciences of Silence, by FootHills Publishing. Because she’s my real, true friend, I hear her real, true voice speaking every line of the poem Foothills shared from the collection. I hope you can, too.

The Good Stuff

Brother Loman Joseph came by with
a handful of dry limas and broke one
open with his little folding knife to
show the 2 cotyledons inside. Dicot,

he said. Once he took an old softball
from his pocket on which he wrote
N period Y period with a blue ballpoint
pen and Xs for the north pole and

the south pole. He lit the bare light bulb
of the porch lamp and tilted the softball
for winter in New York, and he walked
it around the little sun until it was

summertime and sunny. On a winter
night he pointed out the Pleiades,
a modest clutch of stars south
of the biggest star in Auriga’s pentagon.

Seven Sisters, like you girls, he said,
always teaching the good stuff.
Sometimes he brought a pillowcase
full of grapes or corn. The tassels

at the apex of corn stalks were male
flowers puffing pollen. Pollen traveled
the silk strands of female flowers,
ripening the kernels of corn. Monocot,

like the grasses. Of grapes I remember
only the bitter pits. He showed me
how to grow a sweet potato held
up by three toothpicks in a jelly

glass, and once he asked me where
I ‘d have to be if I had a square house
with a window on each side and no
matter which window I looked out

I’d be looking south. And I got
the answer right—He planted a tall
maple sapling beyond the barberry
bush. Maybe it’s still there.

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