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Showing posts with label lettuce. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lettuce. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 02, 2026

INTERRUPTION TO AN AFTERNOON OF OUR DISCONTENT

by Mary K O’Melveny




Today we visited good friends for lunch.

As we discussed the world’s sorry state,

a yellow and black Goldfinch landed on 

a tall sunflower on the back wooden deck.

 

Rain clouds had begun to shroud the Catskill

peaks. Circles of grey, shadows of charcoal

emphasized the sunflower bed’s aureate glow. 

The butter-hued bird was star of the show.

 

Would cops be at the polls? Would there be

a martial law declaration? A breeze caught

the flower, rustled it to the right. The finch

hustled with it as it veered back to center.

 

Would it ever be safe to eat lettuce again?

Would climate change leave our skies colored like

metal? The finch bent down past petals,

pulled out a seed as the reed thin stem moved

 

against wind. He swayed as if dancing in

a conga line. Swish  swish  swish  hop.  Swish  

swish  swish  hop. He dropped onto another

flower, stayed for seconds, popped right back.

 

Will young people go out to vote? How can

we retain hope? How can we cope as daily 

outrage becomes rote? The bird dared us to

watch him at play in early afternoon light.

 

Our (he was “ours” now) Goldfinch was unwilling 

to wallow in woe. He leapt upward, stopped –

wings aflutter—then turned, returned to his

floret launch pad where he glanced our way: 

 

There are seeds to snatch. Breezes to catch. 

As if prearranged, sunflowers shifted, shivered. 

Petals quivered—amber arcs arrayed against 

a grieving sky. Glistening like a firefly’s spark,

 

he stayed put—as if listening, as if he thought 

our exchange mattered. We loved our brilliant bird then.

He was an augur of resilience, of possibilities. Soon,

he lifted, drifted high, veered toward the mountain range.



Mary K O’Melveny, has authored five poetry collections and a chapbook, including If You Want To Go To Heaven, Follow A Songbird (Jerry Jazz Musician 2024);  Flight Patterns (Kelsay 2023) (nominated for the Eric Hoffer Book Award); Merging Star Hypotheses (Finishing Line 2020), semi-finalist, The Washington Prize/The Word Works). What Remains? (Broadstone Books) will debut in fall 2026. A three-time Pushcart nominee, Mary’s award-winning poems are widely published. Mary lives with her wife near Woodstock, New York.

Friday, August 14, 2026

LETTUCE REJOICE! (THE PATRIOTIC CYCLOSPORA CAYETANENSIS)

by Zumwalt


AI-generated graphic by NightCafé for The New Verse News.


Trump’s CDC Stopped Monitoring Explosive Diarrhea Parasite Before Outbreak —Newsweek, July 10, 2026


It's a big win, a big win, so cue the parade—
Inflation is beaten! Our Fed target's made!
So how did we do it? Well, funny you ask—
We fired all the folks doing food-safety tasks.

No agency checking for bugs in your greens.
No budget for knowing what "parasite" means.
Sixteen percent cheaper—a triumph, a feat!
Who cares if there's germs in the lettuce you eat?

So cheers to the savings—we know you're all glad,
Even Taco Bell's prices have come down a tad.
You can now eat much cheaper than you did in the past
But please note, due to gastrointestinal side effects, 
                     you may choose to fast.


Zumwalts poetry examines the intersection of identity, instability, and the mechanics of perception. Recent work is currently appearing in The New Verse News.