Rusty Teapot

In the Tree House

I empty the rusty teapot
of blue water, mud and leaves,
retrieve pink tea cups
from the sand box, play food
strewn through the woods.
I put cups back on their hooks,
arrange ham beside pepper,
cabbage and egg.
I would live here forever

but as I sweep
sand from the burners
on the painted toy stove,
sand my six year-old calls fire—
why can’t you just leave it?
I remember this house is hers,
and I have to give it back, leave
a little fire on the stove,
the sink, fire even on the floor.

By HF Contributing Writer, Amy Dryansky

Amy DryanskyAmy Dryansky

Amy is an award winning author, and a consultant and grant writer for arts organizations. She has new and forthcoming poems in New England Watershed and Orion, as well as the anthology Sweeping Beauty: Contemporary Women Poets Do Housework (University of Iowa Press). She’s a former Associate at the Five College Women’s Studies Research Center at Mt. Holyoke College, where she looked at the impact of motherhood on the work of women poets, and completed her latest book of poems, as yet untitled. She lives in Conway, MA, with her husband and two children and leads writing workshops in the community. adryansky@comcast.net

1 Comment

  1. July 23, 2007 at 10:29 am

    Nice teapot poem and nice blog!!! I love your pics…!

    Susan in Italy


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