I turn on CNN while putting away groceries–
jet crash in the Hudson, plane floating
like a lost whale. I put the milk
into the fridge. It’s the weariest work of my life,
recovery.
Passengers on the jet
scramble out like Jonah,
onto the wing,
into a Circle Line tour boat.
Cookies in the jar. It’s tricky
to turn my trespasses over. Soup & salt
to the cupboard. It takes all
I’ve got not to
be angry when I pray. God plays,
he knocks us down with his knuckle,
flies us over his head,
crashes us into the rug. Stack the plums
one over three over seven so they don’t roll.
Carrots to the crisper.
Wendy Ingersoll’s book, Grace Only Follows won the National Federation of Press Women Contest. Publications: Poetry East, Naugatuck River Review, Connecticut River Review, Passager, Gargoyle, Main Street Rag, Mojave River Review, Worcester Review. Her manuscript White Crane Spreads Its Wings was a Finalist for the Dogfish Head Prize. She serves as reader for the Delmarva Review.
