Posted in Poetry

The Long and Short of It: A Pandemic Poem

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The Long and Short of It

I used to get my hair cut twice a year—
grow it long, cut it short, grow it long, cut it short.
Each trip to the salon
wrapped neatly inside an hour,
the look I left with as final as
the severing of that first big chop.
Home haircuts are slower things—
tentative and tender,
gradually snipping a little
and a little more.
I’ve already had three
in as many months.
Or maybe it’s just one long cut
that keeps going.
Between haircuts, I tilt my head at the mirror
and stare,
using scissors to coax locks into place,
nudging strands this way and that,
waiting for the right shape
to reveal itself.
Sometimes I feel that’s all I do anymore—
tilt my head and stare and wait,
whittling away at time
while time keeps growing longer,
expecting the world—eventually—to form a shape
I recognize again.

 

© Carie Juettner, July 2020

Posted in Poetry

Conquest or Coincidence?

Today, at the Austin Poetry Society’s Online Annual Awards Celebration, my poem “Growing Faces” won first place in The Unexpected Award. I’m excited that this weird, somewhat creepy little poem will appear in the 2019-2020 volume of Best Austin Poetry and can’t wait to see it come out in print later this year.

In the meantime, I want to share my poem that was published in Best Austin Poetry 2017-2018. This poem won the APS November 2017 Monthly Contest in the “light verse” category. It’s about my very fat childhood cat, Muffin, pictured below.

Conquest or Coincidence?

A scratch at the door, a pitiful squeak,
the clumsy stumbling of four furry feet,
some panting, some pawing, and one muffled “mew,”
we all gather around and—can it be true?

The twenty-pound feline bounds through the door
and places his conquest onto the floor.
Proudly he sits in the awe-silenced house,
for Muffin, Great Muffin, has brought in a mouse!

We all praise his bravery, his courage, his gumption,
although, privately, it is our assumption
that the mouse that lay dead in our fat housecat’s claws
probably died of a natural cause.

© Carie Juettner, 2017

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Posted in Poetry

Pandemic

Pandemic
*

Coronavirus is on the tongue
of every passerby.
Gossip spreads faster than germs
and both are carriers of the disease.
We wash our hands raw
with soap and practicality
but can’t help inhaling the news.
Our map is full of pins
in places we’re not allowed to go
while vacations are both extended
and cancelled.
At a time when human comfort
seems like the best medicine
we isolate, wave from afar,
blow kisses into our elbows
and pray to the gods of science.

*
– Carie Juettner
March 12, 2020