Figure of a Farmer Holding a Goose I could go for a man like this. His skin literally porcelain. Diminutive, he fits in a pocket. And he’s Danish! He courts me with live poultry and a backpack full of items I imagine: summer beer (the same Ditley Hansen’s brew he spoon-feeds his wounded horse), black bread, salted herring, a sweet hunk of butter. Even cutlery and a rustic blue cloth! Perhaps a flute or lute. So what if he’s out of fashion, if his short pants and white stockings scream 1780. He looks sturdy, has survived centuries. His white shirt shines pristine, his brass buttons wink, his waistcoat glows a grassy green. He keeps his beard and mustache neat. Though he’s likely not a delightful conversationalist, nor one for inventive recreation, he’s honest and solid. The type I should have married. He grows potatoes and cucumbers, owns a goose. Maybe geese! He understands what’s of use. Young women will look right past him. Once I would have, too. Jody Winer Jody Winer's poems have appeared in Epoch, The Massachusetts Review, Open City, phoebe, Poet Lore, The Saint Ann’s Review, South Carolina Review, The Spoon River Poetry Review, The Atlanta Review, The Harvard Crimson, Mudfish, and elsewhere. Winner of the 2019 Finishing Line Press Competition, her chapbook Welcome to Guardian Angel School was published in 2020. She is a fellow of MacDowell and the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts. Raised in Florida, she lives in New York and has worked as a librarian, writer, and dog wrangler.
2 Comments
Celia
1/18/2021 02:42:10 pm
Thanks for the poem. Some guys need a closer look.
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Margaret Mintz
1/18/2021 10:12:12 pm
I love this poem. My favorite line: "And he's Danish!"
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