Our Poets on Governors Island + March Poems
Last summer, three of The Three Tomatoes’ poets, were part of the prestigious Poetry Festival on Governors Island. Highlights of the day are captured in this beautiful video produced by Carol Ostrow. And we have their March poems too.
Work From Home
I realized recently
why I adore getting into bed at night.
After almost 2 years of the pandemic permeating
my day-to-day life,
I am barely ever home alone.
Doug has only mentioned a return to his office
a handful of times.
WFH has been added to our collective lexicon.
Our bedroom is 22 feet long.
It’s kind of an odd proportion
for what is now known as a primary bedroom,
also new to the vocabulary list.
The southern half of the room
is anchored by a white lacquered desk
where he works all day.
The glass pull
on the centered pencil drawer
has broken off twice.
I Gorilla glued it back
but it still shifts all the time
when lightly tapped,
and is clearly on the verge.
I love this particular chrome and glass hardware combo,
simultaneously strong and delicate in its design.
They do not make it anymore
and once it’s irreparable,
I will need to replace all 5 drawer pulls.
The northern side of the room
is where our king size bed sleeps,
with just enough breathing room
to wedge our vintage chrome and glass night tables
between the east and west walls.
They were designed by my stepfather
and have wire suspension cables
engineered to support
the chipped glass swinging shelves.
These are irreplaceable.
All day we work around each other
alternatively chatting and shushing one another.
I’ve accepted the fact
that I am never home alone much,
as I used to be frequently.
Now at night
when we turn down and turn in,
Doug always falls asleep before me.
I plug into my iPad
and lay awake
of the very shiny golden age of TV.
No one sees me.
Doug’s beautiful body is swaddled
in the cocoon of covers right next to me,
but as the blanket gently falls and rises,
I am home alone at last.
~ Nicole Freezer Rubens, author of The Long Pause and the Short Breath…Poems & Photos & Reflections on New York City’s Pandemic
Looking for a Home
Where food and love surround me
Where hugs and pats are my companions
Where cold does not spend its time with me
Where I dream and wake to find my family returning to me
Looking forward to greeting you and welcoming you back home
I dream of this when nobody choses me at the end of the day
It is always an almost but then they don’t return
I dream of this when the volunteer tells me tomorrow girl
Looking for a home
~Madlyn Epstein Steinhart, author of Put Your Boots on and Dance in the Rain
So Be It
I cried out in the darkness, please come and sleep with me,
This directed to my female cat named Desitri,
I whispered so very seriously,
You are actually, my very favorite company,
Come here, I pleaded, for you can see,
I crave your attention most affectionately,
But, maddeningly, she ignores every ardent plea,
To choose to slither away so gracefully,
To her favorite space to have a pee,
And looks back at me rather haughtily,
To confirm after all, oh so independently,
She’s a cat, after all, and that’s that!!
~Carol Ostrow, author of Poems from My Pandemic Pen