Fountain Pen

A faded blue box full of dusty bones,
or so I presumed until I eased the lid off
to find gleaming tools, colored gemstones.
My Grandfather’s fountain pens—cast-offs
from a legendary man I know little about.
I hold each slim piece, gently draw off the cap—
the arrow shaped nib, black ink spout,
eighteen-karat gold, the point enwrapped.
The distinct sound his pen makes on paper—
like a dog’s toenails scratching hardwood.
This slim tip—perhaps was his biographer,
ink sucked to the automatic cartridge like blood.
I dream of knowing the secrets within his pen,
what I’d learn if his thoughts were actually written.

For the Pretty Woman on the UCSF Shuttle

She gets on the quiet hospital shuttle bus,
flashes a smile, a slender dark-eyed beauty.
Her ringing phone echoes, sounds ridiculous,
she answers, “What do you want from me?”
Her face twists from normalcy to despair—
she begins to shriek and cry, launches into
another language, signaling the end of an affair.
Tears stream down her face as she argues—
red-faced, stammering, says something so true
“I cannot do this anymore.” I’ve been there before.
Her life is splintering in public. I hope she pulls through,
fights like a bull against the thin-lipped matador.
I want to stroke her long brown hair, pull her to my chest,
utter words he’s left unsaid, let her get some rest.

Cherry Trees, Expanded

I want to do with you what the spring does to cherry trees…
-Poem XIV, Pablo Neruda

I want to do with you what taste buds do to dark chocolate
what coffee does to mornings

what Zuni café does to chicken

what lemonade does to thirst

what white wine does to shrimp and garlic

what a BBQ does to summer nights

what flames do to wood

what the wind does to sails

what  the sun does to red poppies 

what candlelight does to romance

what clean sheets do to my bed

what a hot bath does to skin

I want to do with you what your kisses do to my thighs

what painted red toes do to a foot fetish

what pantyhose does to your eyes

what dreams do to reality

what poets do to words

what the imagination does when unharnessed

what jay walkers do to red lights

what the NY Times does to lazy Sundays

what poetry does to sadness

what laughter does to worry

what the library does to literacy

what a seat on the train does to writing a morning poem

what Diane DiPrima does to revolutions

I want to do with you what Neruda did to cherry trees

Ingrid Keir is a poet and artist. She is the founder and co-host of the WordParty poetry and jazz events in NY and SF. Her poetry has been published in The Haight Ashbury Literary Journal, Cantaraville Literary Quarterly, 16th & Mission Review and was selected to be in The 1st Visual Poetry & Performance Exhibition at Mission Cultural Center in San Francisco. Her poetry was also was selected to be in a collaborative project with artist Kyle Knobel at the Marjorie Wood gallery (September 2009). She has written several books of poetry: The Secrets of Like (2004), Toward the Light (2007) and is currently working on a new collection of poetry.