Mary Lou Buschi

My Husband Holds Up a Pair of Mismatched Socks

I tell him not to worry, eventually they will match,
one day finding one another again,

eventually the wind will stop and we will
once again hear silence and what’s more

the fox is back and she’s alone.
The rooster has survived the winter—

Just listen to that crowing.
Your keys? Haven’t touched them,

but if you look in the top drawer,
of your father’s old bar they might be there.

This morning is about surrender,
a morning that lets the weeds take over,

look at those white clouds the size of Bowhead whales,
supplying at least half the oxygen you breathe,

so that you can continue to look for what is lost,
or buried, or you can choose to sit with me

and enjoy the dew lacing itself
over the lawn allowing the Dandelions

to burst into flower, feeding the bees,
which is when, I hope, you will forgive me,

for mixing the hardboiled eggs,
in the blue bowl, with the raw.

Mary Lou Buschi holds an MFA in poetry from the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College and a Master of Science in Urban Education from Mercy College. Her poems have appeared in many literary journals such as Radar, MER, The Laurel Review, The Shore, Gyroscope Review among others. Her second full length collection, Paddock, was published by Lily Poetry Review Books in 2021.