Laurie Kuntz


spring 1995


MY FATHER’S PHOTOGRAPHS

I’m pictured bent over him, our smiles as / stiff as the iron spokes of his wheelchair.
BY LAURIE KUNTZ - FROM ROANOKE REVIEW, 1995

BY LAURIE KUNTZ - FROM ROANOKE REVIEW, 1995


current work


INFINITE TENDERNESS

You called lost and broken down,
one December night-- 
On a road amidst scarecrows and corn,

your car dropped a fan belt,
and I was tasked an endeavor into darkness 
to find you. 

The night choked me with weather and empty country roads-- 
no street names, nor landmarks,
just fields, leftover snow and taunting  black ice.

A stranger brought you to safety that night,
as darkness goaded me away from you. 
Every winter storm since recalls your rage.

Once, in vengeance, I revealed 
that Anna Karenina jumps in front of a train,
ruining the ending you were just about to read.

It was an ending you saw that night, 
waiting for me to rescue you
from fan belts and wind.

Like Anna, I'm not good at saving others, or myself. 
I fail at heroics--I’m better at baking a cake, 
basting a turkey, or planting pansies-- 

If only I could steal myself
out from your anger, 
rise to an occasion,

save you from a precipitous fall off a cliff, 
or venture to find your voice lost 
in the Siberian wind.

Anna Karenina had infinite tenderness, 
but no one to save her,
unlike all the kindness that remains to rescue us. 

The time we’ve had together leaves me breathless, 
as if running for a train that  will stop in places I never want to be again,
but I board it anyway and take a window seat.

                                                                                          For SD

 

a note from the author

Every poem is a journey; every journey is a poem. Passion fuels the journey, but passion changes, deepens and lessens. The early work is about the journey of a father's and a daughter's love for each other in all its stages-- not excluding anger or frustration, yet it ends in a celebration of beginnings. The current work is also about a journey fueled by passion. The poem, about a marriage, speaks to the desire to continue the journey by going back to the beginning of the story. Somewhere in the telling is healing and acceptance. We save our stories, and our stories save us


Laurie Kuntz is an award-winning poet and film producer. She taught creative writing and poetry in Japan, Thailand and the Philippines. Many of her poetic themes are a result of her working with Southeast Asian refugees for over a decade after the Vietnam War years. She has published one poetry collection (Somewhere in the Telling, Mellen Press) and two chapbooks (Simple Gestures, Texas Review Press and Women at the Onsen, Blue Light Press), as well as an ESL reader (The New Arrival, Books 1 & 2, Prentice Hall Publishers). Her poetry has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, and her chapbook, Simple Gestures, won the Texas Review Poetry Chapbook Contest. She was editor in chief of Blue Muse Magazine and a guest editor of Hunger Mountain Magazine. She has produced documentaries on the repeal of the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell Law, and currently is producing a documentary on the peace process and reintegration of guerrilla soldiers in Colombia. She is the executive producer of an Emmy winning short narrative film, Posthumous. Recently retired, she lives in an endless summer state of mind. Her website is:

https://lauriekuntz.myportfolio.com/home-1


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