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Homegrown Mint By Kasia Pater Homegrown Mint The stem was honey-suckle sweet Supple and bright, tall as a weed. Past lilies bedding, he caught her upper Stirring molasses in horn-rim glasses For potluck supper. Her voice trailed with a morning glory As they were walking, they started talking The greenhouse story. Mint's cooling scent freed up the hungry vine No longer sleeping, it sprung up leaping And clamped entwined. He let it harden in herbal garden Behind the mower, then whiffed the lower. About the author: Kasia Zupinadze Pater, a native of Poland, once an English major at the Jagiellonian University in Krakow, later received her degree in Communications from the University of Kentucky in Lexington. Recently, she matriculated as a Bluegrasser through an eighteen-year-old tenure on a small farm in the Bluegrass area of Kentucky; where she lives with her husband, son and daughter. She calls Lexington home now. A strong arts supporter continues administrating her husband's art studio while writing and translating. "Language is a big part of assimilation process for an immigrant. That's why I write in English. However, writing in your second language is like driving under influence. You do it but you can't say you are fully responsible." | | | |
First Person Archive Most recent: 2008 November October September August July June May April March February January 2007 December November October September August July June May April March February January 2006 December September Submit Your First Person Story A while back, we invited listeners to send us a short story or a poem about their homes for a feature called "Stories from Home." We're resurrecting this feature, but we're calling it "First Person" a place for you to give us your stories, poems, or short fiction. | |
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