ISSUE 21
August 2002

Bunny Goodjohn

 

Bunny Goodjohn, originally from the UK, now resides in Forest, Virginia. Her poetry has appeared in the literary journal Concrete Wolf and in Mélange and Wind. In 2001, she was awarded Honorable Mentions in both the Helen Calvert Award and the Don Goodwin poetry competition. When she isn’t writing (which is rare), Bunny enjoys gardening, emailing friends, and cooking up a vegetarian storm.
Kitting My Pyramid     


In the corner of my tomb, set a table,
lay it with a tray of pale green
hens eggs—
their warm shells spattered
with chicken crap and fine
brown feathers.

Add a grasp of daffodils,
that shoe I hated
and my mother's aviation goggles.

Fetch a bowl of dappled beans,
a dish of butter
and an open tub of creosote.

Against my chair, prop my dead lover,
his mackintosh still grimy,
his jester's hat, bells rusting and pitted,
and write a note for Colin,
a reminder for milk and forgiveness.

From the compost heap,
collect the dead cardinal.
Arrange him in flowers,
open-winged, a red embrace
of yellow and green.

Let the bird bring his own offering;
maggots, small rice-white,
churning in the butter dish.

 

 

Bunny Goodjohn: Poetry
Copyright © 2002 The Cortland Review Issue 21The Cortland Review