This quote is by Emily Dickenson:
"The absence of the witch does not/Invalidate the spell”

Shana Ritter’s poetry and short stories have appeared in various journals and magazines including Lilith, Fifth Wednesday and Georgetown Review. Her chapbook, Stairs of Separation was published by Finishing Line Press. In the Time of Leaving, a novel of exile and resilience, is set in late 15th century Spain and was published in 2019. Shana has been awarded the Indiana Individual Artist Grant on multiple occasions.

Welcome to the Poets Weave, I'm Romayne Rubinas Dorsey. Shana, what poems have you brought for us today?

Let us consider how we live

In this time of distancing we swim in the shallows
as if no ripples were formed when we reach for each other.

Remember the way oceans swallow summer, wave by wave
as if it were effortless to make a whole season disappear.

You can choose to be still in the blue light of evening
the scent of cinnamon whispering embrace. Last year

so few lightening bugs starred the trees I could count
each of their flashes suspended like small pockets of honey

golden in night's slow summer air. Be careful how you stand
our shadows become longer and longer as light lengthens Arc of again and while the same trees bloom as last year

 
Making soup while sheltering in place

Check the fridge to see what there is.
Broccoli, scallions, leeks, tomato
celery, potato, leftover chicken.
Clear the counter, open the spice draw
promise you’ll organize it next time.
Root around for the cumin your daughter
left behind, the Szechuan pepper
your husband loves, the cardamom
brought back from India by a friend.
Reach for the Talavera jar on the shelf
grab a few cloves of garlic, take
the salt cellar down. Note the array
of colors against the yellow countertop.
Put on Van Morrison turn it up
chop the onion and garlic, toss
it in the olive oil already warming
in the heavy pot. While it sautés
pull a bit of oregano and rosemary
from the garden, cut up everything
that remains, throw it in, stir.
Turn up the music, take a few steps
Pour in the stock made last night
when it simmers, cover, turn down the heat.
Change the music, something old
and bittersweet, Joni Mitchell, Leonard Cohen
Take the bread from the bread drawer
make a salad for the side, open the wine.
Watch the last light filter through the trees
all rose and pearl stand still as it softens everything.

 
Summer 2020

Breath in, breath out
count the measures
between. Stand still
watch then walk around
the pond, follow the steps
worn into the ground, notice
the flowers. Today’s profusion
of chicory, the lessening daisies
golden rod Queen Anne’s Lace
giving way to lengthening grasses.
Just yesterday a few leaves
lay scattered, today the grass
is covered in the fallen. A friend
texts photos from a long ago visit
our dark, long hair all rustled
from the sea, our faces unlined
counter the sun, our children
still children lean into us.
I have let go of counting years
I mark time by the height
of my grandchildren
the width of their questions.
At night I notice the shifting
constellations, the moon’s phases
the last fireflies, the noise rise
the cicadas’ tymbals hum
everything readying for summer’s end.
The woodpeckers hover at the feeder
the owl’s distant call breaks across
the afternoon. I name what I can.
One day is nothing like the other.

 
There was a time in which we touched

Strangers pressed the soft skin of their palms
together fingers tucked in around

each other’s hands, skin upon skin
a naked touch of lines and veins

a sign of trust, a show
that nothing was concealed.

In other places someone newly met
would stretch their neck and reach

their lips to brush another’s cheek
once upon each side faces so close

you could not see anything
it was all feel and whisper.

Sometimes, if you’d met before
each might reach their arms in embrace

drawing the bodies so close together
heartbeats would transverse the bones.


You've been listening to the poetry of Shana Ritter on the Poets Weave, I'm Romayne Rubinas Dorsey.