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C.N.P Poetry 

  • Writer's pictureCathexis Northwest Press

Pleeze; Pomegranate Seeds

By: Claire Scott


At seven I wanted a poodle with a rhinestone eye

appliqued to a gray felt skirt

so I could sashay and spin, all flounce and flurry

and kids would beg to sit by my side

At twelve I wanted a navy blue cardigan

with grosgrain ribbons down the front

preening like the popular girls

the goddesses of middle school

At seventeen I wanted a sequined gown

stretched tight over sling-easy hips

the boys would hot whisper my name

their spittle tongues wet in my ear

What happens to wishes

that don’t find a home

do they float above us on withered wings

hoping for a safe place to land

Do they lie dormant under a Purple Ash

waiting to flower in Spring

are they whispered away on the back of a breeze

like fluffs of cottonwood seeds

Or do they slump home with drooping

wings, to settle in the shame

of the undelivered, the undeliverable

like a letter stamped return to sender

Pushing eighty, too old to be wishing, knowing

most wishes don’t land in loving hands

yet still I wish on the first star each night

a tossed penny, a full moon, a four leaf clover

And still I touch my granddaughter’s shoulder

as she wishes on seven bright candles

or writes a sprawling list to Santa

pleeze an amerikan girl doll pleeze

Knowing it is the wishing itself

PLEEZE, page two, continued stanza

that matters, that every wish

has a rhinestone eye that dreams a future

where silver wishes shimmer

Pomegranate Seeds

If I defer the grief I will diminish the gift

Eavan Boland

I tried to protect my daughter so if

her pet guppy Pearl died (again), I

bought another Pearl to defer

the pain, the tears, the truth, the

loss of innocence, the great grief

of mortality ringing her bones. I

buy an identical one so I will

not notice the death, to diminish

my sorrow, to distract her from the

seeds and rob her of the gift


Claire Scott is an award winning poet who has received multiple Pushcart Prize nominations. Her work has appeared in the Atlanta Review, Bellevue Literary Review, New Ohio Review, Enizagam and Healing Muse among others. Claire is the author of Waiting to be Called and Until I Couldn’t. She is the co-author of Unfolding in Light: A Sisters’ Journey in Photography and Poetry.

Behind the Scenes:


As a child my wishes were often shamed. Too greedy. Too selfish. Too expensive. And so the capacity to wish itself was damaged: too dangerous, don’t dare. As an adult I realized that all a parent has to do is listen to the wish and honor the act of wishing, even if they can’t grant it. I want my granddaughter to wish and wish and I want to share in her wishes.


When I find a short phrase or sentence that calls to me, I sometimes write a Golden Shovel poem. I love this quote from Eavan Boland. Adults can so easily rob children of gifts, whether it is a gift of loss or a loss of innocence that is an important part of growing up."

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