{"id":461,"date":"2012-05-22T22:29:57","date_gmt":"2012-05-23T06:29:57","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/?p=461"},"modified":"2012-05-22T22:29:57","modified_gmt":"2012-05-23T06:29:57","slug":"monica-schley","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/?p=461","title":{"rendered":"Monica Schley"},"content":{"rendered":"

Figeater
\nFor Beth Fleenor<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

That fig tree attracts wasps. They get wobbly
\nin the heady fermented fruit<\/p>\n

flying lazily on the summer wind
\nlike some Sinatra party guest after martinis.<\/p>\n

Masts clang down the hill in the harbor.
\nAnother siren calls while the dusk wraps its ethered scarf<\/p>\n

around the neighborhood and the raccoon,
\nin his nocturnal wonder, takes one look at the tree<\/p>\n

to see his paradise, his destiny, like a moth
\nsees his paramour flame, he knows<\/p>\n

he will reach supreme love
\nfrom the bright fig at the crown<\/p>\n

now illuminated by the moon. The limbs
\nare as soft as quartz, scratching easily<\/p>\n

as he climbs up & up & up.
\nDrawn out is this moment of reaching\u2014<\/p>\n

the way he scampers on the thin branches for footing,
\nstretching towards splendor, there it is: a purple sack,<\/p>\n

a Lilliputian\u2019s laundry bag. He touches as high
\nas he can without falling. And then he does<\/p>\n

manage to clip the fruit with his paw
\njoyously dropping into his mouth, the wet<\/p>\n

and juicy center. A smile perhaps
\nand laughter at the bulging size of the fig<\/p>\n

which in one second slides down his throat
\nbut gets stuck. And there is our raccoon\u2014<\/p>\n

on tip-toes in the moonlight at the height of his happiness
\nin the tree choking. After that there is a fall,<\/p>\n

followed by the brief silence of being airborne
\nbefore landing at the crux of two crossed branches<\/p>\n

that bounce of the sudden glottal stop. Uh-oh.<\/p>\n

Everyone is gone from the house to have heard
\nthe accident, but in the morning they find him<\/p>\n

strange fruit hanging from the Mediterranean tree.
\nAnd so he is plucked (apprehensively)<\/p>\n

his soft furry body like a forgotten gym bag
\nstuffed with stinky socks. He is processioned in a bizarre majesty<\/p>\n

down the street on the shovel used to dig his grave.
\nNow he rests in the old apple orchard<\/p>\n

of the abandoned house (half burned out in decay)
\nthere beneath the one oak tree covered<\/p>\n

in ivy vines that in a few years from now
\nwill have a small fig tree in its shadow<\/p>\n

that started from the seed
\nin the raccoon\u2019s belly.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Monica Schley<\/a> earned a BA from UW-Eau Claire (in her native Wisconsin) where she studied poetry and harp. As a poet, her work has appeared in Burnside Review; Cranky; Cream City Review; Crab Creek Review; <\/a>KNOCK<\/em> and other journals. Her chapbook Black Eden: Nocturnes<\/em> <\/a>(Pudding House Press) was published in 2009 and also doubles as a performance piece with dance\/spoken word\/music. As a musician, she has worked with some of the Northwest\u2019s mostly highly respected composers and performers including: Jim Knapp; Eyvand Kang; Jherek Bischoff; Lori Goldston; Jesse Sykes; Damien Jurado and many others. She is currently working on recording an album of her own music and poetry and being a new mother. Concert calendar can be found at: www.monicaschley.com<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Figeater For Beth Fleenor   That fig tree attracts wasps. They get wobbly in the heady fermented fruit flying lazily on the summer wind like some Sinatra party guest after martinis. Masts clang down the hill in the harbor. Another … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[37,8,1],"tags":[161,160],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/461"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=461"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/461\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":462,"href":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/461\/revisions\/462"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=461"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=461"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=461"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}