Anna Vasileva
by John Sherman
“We ate wallpaper glue and rancid horse meat and even scraped the spoiled milk off the bottom of the fridges in the yogurt factory…. Back then, I ate whatever I could. I even ate flowers.”
Anna Vasileva, a Russian woman describing how she survived World War
II, The New York Times Magazine, February 24, 2002
bringing the fragile petals to her mouth
she is surprised the occasional lavenders
lack the taste of their color
brightly displayed against
her small rough hands are
scarlets
perfect whites
glorious pinks
bursting out of
the ends of their green stems
that she also eats
the bitterness ignored
as she stifles her own
I always admired flowers
finding fields of them a shock
as I rounded the corner coming home
while I busied myself with sums and sentences
they had opened up
waiting for me to gasp in surprise
as scores of startling yellows in the early spring
teased me as I walked by
in dull contrast
on my way to the luxury of soup
and perhaps bread
faster now
she grasps bunches of them
stuffs them into her mouth
imagining them to be colorful fish
wanting them to be fleshy meaty fish
Bio: John Sherman has published three books of poetry. His poems have appeared in many literary journals and anthologies. One of his poems was selected to appear on an Indianapolis Cultural Trail bus stop. Another was selected for the poet-quilter collaboration, Poetry in Free Motion. He is the recipient of a Creative Renewal Artist Fellowship and Individual Arts Program grants for his writing.
For more information about Anna Vasileva, click here.
by John Sherman
“We ate wallpaper glue and rancid horse meat and even scraped the spoiled milk off the bottom of the fridges in the yogurt factory…. Back then, I ate whatever I could. I even ate flowers.”
Anna Vasileva, a Russian woman describing how she survived World War
II, The New York Times Magazine, February 24, 2002
bringing the fragile petals to her mouth
she is surprised the occasional lavenders
lack the taste of their color
brightly displayed against
her small rough hands are
scarlets
perfect whites
glorious pinks
bursting out of
the ends of their green stems
that she also eats
the bitterness ignored
as she stifles her own
I always admired flowers
finding fields of them a shock
as I rounded the corner coming home
while I busied myself with sums and sentences
they had opened up
waiting for me to gasp in surprise
as scores of startling yellows in the early spring
teased me as I walked by
in dull contrast
on my way to the luxury of soup
and perhaps bread
faster now
she grasps bunches of them
stuffs them into her mouth
imagining them to be colorful fish
wanting them to be fleshy meaty fish
Bio: John Sherman has published three books of poetry. His poems have appeared in many literary journals and anthologies. One of his poems was selected to appear on an Indianapolis Cultural Trail bus stop. Another was selected for the poet-quilter collaboration, Poetry in Free Motion. He is the recipient of a Creative Renewal Artist Fellowship and Individual Arts Program grants for his writing.
For more information about Anna Vasileva, click here.