Stone Soup Servings Presents: Carla Schwartz

 

Stone Soup Servings is a regular series for Oddball Magazine that features upcoming performers at Stone Soup Poetry, the long-running spoken word venue in the Boston area that has recently partnered with Oddball Magazine. Stone Soup Poetry meets from 8-10 p.m. every Monday at the Out of The Blue Art Gallery at 106 Prospect Street with an open mike sign-up at 7:30 p.m.

On April 28, Stone Soup close out National Poetry Month with a feature by Carla Schwartz, who gives us today a poem that is also an excerpt from her recommended collection from Turning Point Books, Mother, One More Thing.

 

Daily Call

You would be calling me out of the cold water today,
telling me to buy a new car, as you did fifteen years ago,
before I bought the Honda.

I would be telling you It only has 235 thousand,
and if I just replace the leaking fuel lines, it will last to 300, at least.

You would parry with side airbags and antilock brakes.
I still regret not having changed the timing gear in the Chevelle.

Just then you would lament,
upset that my face is cut, my eye, bruised, my legs, my palm,
and introduce me, “This is my daughter, she fell off her bike.”

The subtext reads, She doesn’t usually look like this,
I’m embarrassed, forgive her.

Not buying into the healing powers of a cold pond,
you would insist I will get sick.

I can’t call to say I won’t let go of the Honda
because you helped me buy it
and you’re not here anymore,
you, star of the showroom,
who knew how to say “no,”
to walk away from what you didn’t want.

 

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