Poetry from Hari B Parisi

Photo: Peter Mason

As a girl

1

Grew up near a river.
Not a Mississippi or Columbia.
It had no paddlewheels.
Looming dams.
No sweeping wonder.

Swam it where it ran slow.
Deep waters that lifted
a burning day.
My mother didn’t bare her sex.
Never learned to swim.

.

2

Played solitaire
in an upstairs room.
Watched the street from a paned
window—cars swerving the left-hand corner.
Laid a red two on top of
a black three.

The carpet was wavy
green. I dreamt of smooth-faced boys.
Not men.
Dressed in the dark.
The curtains shielded nothing.
.

.
Hari B Parisi’s poems have been published, or are forthcoming, in the following journals: Atticus Review, Paper Dragon, Poet Lore and Poetry South. She is the author of three volumes of poetry, including She Speaks to the Birds at Night While They Sleep, winner of the 2020 Tebot Bach Clockwise Chapbook Contest. She recently returned to live in her hometown in Central Oregon.