September 22, 2008 by Melanie Alberts.

optimists–
a cat watching the squirrel
under the feeder

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September 13, 2008 by Melanie Alberts.

no rain in Austin
and a dying wind –
every hiding place
every bare front porch
fills with cluttered thoughts

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September 10, 2008 by Melanie Alberts.

I am determined to loosen up my grip on plastic. In my quest to find the best wrapping for the family sandwiches, I turned to my mother’s old favorite, wax paper. I had bought a 25’ roll years ago for that occasional recipe which calls for it and slipped it in a drawer beside the giant, economy size box of cling film we use several times a day. I began using it just for my roll-up sandwiches. Next, I used it to wrap the odd lemon or avocado half. Then I started to wrap my son’s lunches in it. I knew he’d like the novelty. I love the onionskin, vellum like texture of it. I guess it’s because I adore paper in general that I got so excited about using this retro, waxy stuff. The next leap is to convince my husband to use it. The other day he came home with a spool of cling film from the office. I suppose it was used for packing things…it had a handle for better maneuverability. He proceeded to wrap his face with it. Aghast, I asked him to please not show that particular trick to the kid. Thankfully, he did demonstrate how to wrap one’s arm and legs with it and there they were, father and son, laughing at their plastic fantastic bodies. What a waste, I was thinking, as they unraveled themselves and stuffed the film into the trash. Wax paper may be better environmentally than plastic but, I must admit, not as fun. Now to see where I can safely tuck this cling film magic wand– in a place far, far away but perhaps not forgotten.

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September 9, 2008 by Melanie Alberts.

Funny how a hurricane’s coming brings back memories of a person you knew with exactly the same name. With hurricane Ike planning to slam into the Gulf coast during the next couple of days, I recall how Ike Taylor (whose townhouse I shared as an au pair on the flat of Beacon Hill in the mid-eighties), casually strode outdoors in an anorak as hurricane Gloria poured sheets of wind and rain down upon him. Watching through an upper story window, I imagined Ike as a sea captain, standing firm with the purpose and exhilaration of steering his ship out of severe weather. I don’t know— as a scientist, he was probably simply fascinated with the elements. Ike could’ve even been appreciating the sly handiwork of the Lord as it slashed out against the Bostonian Esplanade and grand half-shell stage barely visible through a gray veil of rain. Although I worried for his safety beneath the swooshing tree limbs, I wished I too could be out there with Gloria, pressing against the wind. When Ike came back in, his old face beaming and water rushing off his slicker, he uttered an elongated “ho-ho-ho” like some beleaguered Santa warning the elves to stay inside. What was it about Gloria that made Ike seek her force, her terrible gales, if only for a few moments? Was it the thrill of the storm, the rush of sensations, or just the memory of her name?

the long way home—
with every plant he knew
she smiled more

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September 8, 2008 by Melanie Alberts.

a burnt roast
would be more welcome–
late for dinner

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September 6, 2008 by Melanie Alberts.

I have two tanka coming out in the Sept. 11 edition of the Austin Chronicle in the Litera “Poem of the Issue” section.

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