Helen Ruggieri

She sent me out to sell the cow
because we needed money for milk.
I swapped it for a bag of magic beans,
and we had a big fight because
she said I was stupid and useless
and she threw them out the window
saying I had ruined her
and we would starve.
We woke up late,
the house shadowed by the vines.
I was hungry so I cut off some
of the leaves, stir fried them
with a little oil, some salt,
a few grains of pepper.
Later we poached it, broiled it,
boiled it, baked it, stewed it,
sold it to the neighbors,
the town, the state, canning it;
like an outraged zucchini, it came back,
it came back, and in the fall,
the seeds blew everywhere
and the vines tightened around the house
the wind roared like a giant
thundering through the forest.
No one was hungry,
and only in nightmares would
some malcontent whimper about
the feeble thrum of a harp
singing to be rescued.

Helen Ruggieri
Helen Ruggieri lives in Olean, NY and has a book of haibun, The Character for Woman, available from and a book of poems, Glimmer Girls, from



Current Issue
Contributors' Notes

E. Louise Beach

Anne Becker

Brad Bisio

Jane Blue

John Bush

Wendy Taylor Carlisle

Grace Cavalieri

Norma Chapman

James Cihlar

Ellen Aronofsky Cole

Ruth Z. Deming

Martin Dickinson

Moira Egan

Ronda Eller

Martin Galvin

Bernard Jankowski

Hiram Larew

Lenny Lianne

Michael H. Lythgoe

Judith McCombs

Susan Bucci Mockler

Miles David Moore

Kathi Morrison-Taylor

Bonnie Naradzay

Barbara J. Orton

Steven Pelcman

Roger Pfingston

Jacqueline Powers

Julie Preis

Eve Rifkah

Kim Roberts

Teri Rosen

Helen Ruggieri

Karen Saunders

Karen Schubert

J.D. Smith

Dean Smith

Rose Solari

Margo Solod

Colette Thomas

Steven Trebellas

Rosemary Winslow

Kathi Wolfe

Anne Harding Woodworth

Ernie Wormwood

Katherine Young










Email this poem

Printer friendly page






Last Updated: Sep 16th, 2007 - 08:34:32

Copyright 2005 - 2006 Cook Communication.