Janette Schafer
Austria
I walked everywhere
in Vienna, fueled by krapfen.
Beethoven greeted me,
his stone figure
perfectly arced, toe pointed
forward. I threw a garland
of carnations about his neck.
Mozart danced about the cobblestone
impish and frenetic, gripping
life too tightly by the throat.
I sing to them an Ave Verum Corpus,
lick jelly-sugar from my sweetened fingertips.
White Rice
The earthy smell of grain filled
our house with a warm scent of comfort.
The rattle of our old pot’s lid sang in harmony
with the chimes of neighboring church bells.
This meant for us the truck had come
and there would be cheese, meat,
and bread, filling stomachs lonely
too long with the ache of hunger.
In a heaping mound served next to thick slabs
of fried spam and a ladle of creamed corn,
salty margarine melted and spread
like a child’s blanket over the rice.
Our bellies were satisfied
and Mother smiled again
as everyone yawned and stretched
contented because we were full.
Janette Schafer is a freelance writer, nature photographer, part-time rock singer, and full-time banker living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Her writing and photographs have appeared in numerous publications. She holds an MFA from Chatham University in Creative Writing. She has a forthcoming chapbook from Main Street Rag Publishing titled Something Here Will Grow.
I walked everywhere
in Vienna, fueled by krapfen.
Beethoven greeted me,
his stone figure
perfectly arced, toe pointed
forward. I threw a garland
of carnations about his neck.
Mozart danced about the cobblestone
impish and frenetic, gripping
life too tightly by the throat.
I sing to them an Ave Verum Corpus,
lick jelly-sugar from my sweetened fingertips.
White Rice
The earthy smell of grain filled
our house with a warm scent of comfort.
The rattle of our old pot’s lid sang in harmony
with the chimes of neighboring church bells.
This meant for us the truck had come
and there would be cheese, meat,
and bread, filling stomachs lonely
too long with the ache of hunger.
In a heaping mound served next to thick slabs
of fried spam and a ladle of creamed corn,
salty margarine melted and spread
like a child’s blanket over the rice.
Our bellies were satisfied
and Mother smiled again
as everyone yawned and stretched
contented because we were full.
Janette Schafer is a freelance writer, nature photographer, part-time rock singer, and full-time banker living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Her writing and photographs have appeared in numerous publications. She holds an MFA from Chatham University in Creative Writing. She has a forthcoming chapbook from Main Street Rag Publishing titled Something Here Will Grow.