Drinking Up Tuesday

WOODEN GODDESS

You don’t know me

but stare at my hard, brown belly

as if it were my brain

mocking you

As I stand guard

on your shelf from night’s yawn

till morning winks a billion blinks

pile up dust shawls over my wooden skin

You might fear or revere

my definitive demeanor

my resolve, the way space must

curve and arch

Around my impossible beauty

But stop, please

each day and

hear the music

I have soaked

from my roots to yours

It resounds in bold buttery

waves over oceans

and through guitar strings

to the umbilical where life crawled

from that mysterious mother

who carried your love

Tamra Plotnick’s poetry and prose works have been published in many journals and anthologies, including: Serving House Journal; The Waiting Room Reader, Global City Review and The Coachella Review. Her poetry collection In the Zero of Sky is forthcoming from Assure Press. She has performed her work in multimedia shows at a range of venues in New York City where she lives. She dances samba and raqs sharki, teaches high school, and lingers with friends and family when not writing poetry.

Learn more about Tamra at

tamraplotnick.net and assurepress.org/tamraplotnick

Coffee tip:

What do you do with that last half cup of coffee left in the kettle? Do you save it? Do you let it go cold? Or, do you guzzle it down? Did you know that house plants can use the nutrients in coffee? Instead of dumping the last little bit of the caffeinated goodness down the drain, try watering a plant instead. The nitrates give our little green friends an extra boost of nutrients they often lack from just water.

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