Poetry of Claire Hersom

Anadama Bread

  Winter was the worst. The farm windows iced inside, wind howled down off the upper field; through the gauze curtains it kissed our foreheads, noses buried in featherbed crazy-quilts. Wooden spindle framed our heads. It was too cold for ceiling mice.   We always had to pee just before dawn. When the woodstove fire dwindled, you could see your breath. I’d poke my sister to come down the loft stairs out to the three hole-r in the shed; an unbearable deed.   We’d pull on the crocheted slippers from Great Aunt Ann, only holding heat for a few steps, down we went, hands entwined, the flannel nighties hoisted up, our little derrieres hovering; then jack rabbit quick, back we went to snuggle while the snow stung the tin roof edge.   We’d cuddle together, drift back to sleep, dreams of flap jacks and Anadama Bread warm in the kitchen for breakfast.  

Supper at the Farm

  Nothing prepared me for my grandfather’s peculiar brand of jurisprudence; the kind he wielded outside on the north corner of the farm where his axe sang hallelujah over the necks of chickens; one minute their stuttering walk mimicking palsy, the next in frantic flight, running headless.   Like an odd baptism after the fact, dipped in the scalding water bucket of floating feathers, it was last rites for a useless heart.   Dunk and pull – Nana didn’t mind the bird in her kitchen sink to gut and clean, she’d truss across the open belly like she was mending socks; a plain prosperity.   When dusk fell, it filtered through the farmhouse window on steaming plates of fresh snapped beans; fluffed potatoes from the upper field, dotted with butter – hand churned and set a few days ago.   I bowed my head, swallowed the apparition rising out of the white and voiceless breast, the tasty little wing, and dug in.   Claire Hersom is a native Mainer who finds endless inspiration from the love of her family. Her most recent poetry book, Drowning: A Poetic Memoir was published by Moon Pie Press of Westbrook, Maine. She has two other poetry books: The Day I Circled The Wagons, by Snow Drift Press (2006), and Supper at The Farm (2005), a collection of poems about her Irish family. Claire is a freelance writer most recently writing for Courier Publications out of Rockland, Maine. Her essays and poetry appear regularly in Wolf Moon Journal, and her poetry in various other journals. Her most recent book reviews appeared in California’s Rattle Magazine and Portland Maine’s the Cafe Review. Claire has three grown children, nine grandchildren and lives in Winthrop, Maine.

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