Poems by Rosemary Klein

Lunch, circa forever

​Baloney. A slather
of mustard scraped across white bread.
An apple wrapped in a white napkin.
A carton of milk. Then sleep,
with the cookie clutched in my hand.

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Living Off the Fat of the Land
​
Why do the bourgeoisie get headaches
when they haven’t eaten for hours?
Nothing will suffice except the cow
ripped open, its lactose larder spilling
over blueberries or firmed into cheese.
One can never pile the raspberries
high enough to stem the pangs
of the hungry bourgeoisie. They cannot
tussle, paddle, think, burn their way
out of a paper bag until the stomach
has been settled like an estate.

Rosemary Klein edited The Maryland Poetry Review throughout its 15-year existence, was founding editor and publisher of Three Conditions Press, has publications in regional, national, and international journals and anthologies, was a fellow at Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, a poet-in-residence at the George Washington Carver Center for Arts and Technology and for the Maryland State Arts Council, and a recipient of a Poetry for the People Baltimore Legacy Award.

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