Jodi Hottel

Anais Nin said, “We write to taste life twice, in the moment, and in retrospection.”

Her statement captures one of the reasons I am a poet. My poetry, whether in response to a personal experience, a work of art, or a slice of history, usually comes into being through an emotional experience that I want to taste again and allow my readers to sample as well.

ANNOUNCEMENT:

I am honored to be included in the new anthology The Gate of Memory, edited by Brynn Saito and Brandon Som, Haymarket Books.

MY POEM FROM THE ANTHOLOGY:

A Few Seeds

Some instinct told me

I’d need those tiny packets of seeds

smuggled in my pockets —

cucumber, zinnia,

pea and chrysanthemum —

even more than I’d need a coat

to shield me from the stinging cold

of a desert winter.

A few seeds sown into

improbable soil, watered using

tin cans from the mess hall garbage,

till tender shoots peeked

above ground

reaching

for the meager

warmth

of April.

Now, rambunctious morning glory vines

tangle with cucumber,

climb tarpaper walls

to disguise this bleak barrack.

Snowy mums and golden zinnias

waken and nod their noble heads.

I stroll in the shadow

of a guard tower

as heat softens to dusk.

In block after block

green patches of wonder

are sprouting,

cultivated by those, like me,

who thrust into coat pockets

tiny packets of hope.