Text of the poem is below.
Emily Vieweg, MFA, is a poet and playwright originally from St. Louis, Missouri. Her work has been published in Foliate Oak, The Voices Project, Red Weather Literary Magazine, Soundings Review, Art Young’s Good Morning, The Basil O’Flaherty Feminist Voices and more.
More about Emily here.
and her new book here.
This discussion is a project of FM Arts, a radio series of profiles, performances, and discussions with artists in the Fargo-Moorhead area funded by The Arts Partnership with support from the Cities of Fargo, Moorhead and West Fargo.
I’ll Read Poems by the Pomegranates
If I designed grocery stores,
I would sell books of poems next to the wine, the seltzer,
and in the chocolate aisle.
Tabloids would live near the recycle bins in the back dock,
and newspapers would not hide
stuck behind the rent-a-vac counter.
Sylvia Plath would manage the floral department
clipping tulip stems and filling birthday balloons
while wearing a half-smile and a stoic gaze.
Customers would pick their own apples from the produce orchard,
Rilke looking on, shaking his head at each poor decision made by men
choosing parsnips, not radishes, turnips, or yams.
In the dollar aisle, instead of gum,
one could buy poetry prompts.
Out in the alcove, Emily Dickinson clutches her umbrella and
clacks her fingernails on the windowsill,
waiting for a taxi.
I wonder what Bukowski ponders as he
stocks the paper goods in aisle nine while
assistant manager Ginsburg wanders the gluten-free aisle
still searching for Whitman.
On the back of the receipt –
instead of coupons
for fabric softener and
car oil changes,
a haiku -
© Emily Vieweg 2020
