Loving Adverbs

I know I should love
nouns more than adverbs but
I definitely
don’t. The same weighty expectation
accompanies phenomena like the Beatles,
Harry Potter, or sushi. My loves never seem
to be trendy, and I say this with confusion,
not pride.

I know I should read
all the short stories in the
literary arts magazines too, but
I unfortunately
don’t. My eyes skip right
to the poems, relying on the same impressive
gymnastics they use when leaping solely to
the headlines or bible verses that feel
relevant at the time. I say this with regret,
not enthusiasm.

I know I should write
a little bit each day, even
when inspiration feels like the awkward second
cousin you only see at annual family reunions,
but I positively
can’t. Tonight you wanted to make
your favorite chili and you need someone to pull
green cilantro leaves off their stems. So I cook
in the kitchen with you for hours—soaked in
the clashing fragrance of cilantro and cumin—playing
Miles Davis as our method for paving ways to both love
and conversation: reluctantly, delightfully, completely,
finally.

Alabaster Jar

”
Now while Jesus was at Bethany in the house of Simon the Leper, a woman came to him with an alabaster jar of very costly perfume, which she poured on his head as he was reclining at the table. When the disciples saw this, they were indignant. ‘Why this waste?’ they asked.” – Matthew 26:6-8

delicate strokes on a classic

guitar—the whimsical
way you acknowledge
a star—insights exchanged
between two at a bar—the awkward
jerks of a teenager’s
car— the heavy aroma of a Cuban
cigar—living on edge and leaning just too
far:

jazz is
a filibuster, an alabaster
jar

 

About Stefanie Pickett Buckner

Ms. Buckner’s poetry has appeared in Byline Magazine, Time of Singing, Sacred Journey, The Penwood Review, SP Quill Quarterly Magazine, Ruah, New Verse News, and Lyric.