Charles Springer has degrees in anthropology and is an award-winning artist, having lived much of his life in
Cincinnati, Philadelphia and New York. He began writing more than twenty years ago when he discovered words
sometimes worked better than paint to make pictures. He currently eats, sleeps, bicycles and writes from the family
homestead in the mountains of north central Pennsylvania where he earns a living in advertising and is constantly
trying to keep his barn from falling down. Over the years Charles has enjoyed publishing in Apalachee Review, Boxcar
Poetry Review, The Cincinnati Review, Cold Mountain Review, Faultline, Heliotrope, Licking River Review, Oak Bend
Review, Bijou Poetry Review, the recent Editor’s Edition of The Café Review and Lines+Stars among others. New
poems are forthcoming in Pemmican, Salt River Review, Stone's Throw Magazine and Oxford Magazine. He is
pleased with this, his first appearance in The Honey Land Review.
Cincinnati, Philadelphia and New York. He began writing more than twenty years ago when he discovered words
sometimes worked better than paint to make pictures. He currently eats, sleeps, bicycles and writes from the family
homestead in the mountains of north central Pennsylvania where he earns a living in advertising and is constantly
trying to keep his barn from falling down. Over the years Charles has enjoyed publishing in Apalachee Review, Boxcar
Poetry Review, The Cincinnati Review, Cold Mountain Review, Faultline, Heliotrope, Licking River Review, Oak Bend
Review, Bijou Poetry Review, the recent Editor’s Edition of The Café Review and Lines+Stars among others. New
poems are forthcoming in Pemmican, Salt River Review, Stone's Throw Magazine and Oxford Magazine. He is
pleased with this, his first appearance in The Honey Land Review.
Photo by Mary Ann Reilly
Copyright © 2009 The Honey Land Review All rights reserved.
All content contained within this site is protected by copyright laws.
Unauthorized use of graphics or literary material is strictly prohibited.
All content contained within this site is protected by copyright laws.
Unauthorized use of graphics or literary material is strictly prohibited.
| Salvation Charles Springer |
Velma’s jello
with its risen peaches
after Sunday’s sermon: heaven.
Preacher
pecks her on the cheek
in instant appreciation. Congregation
pictures her
high-heeled and crowned,
bowl in hand, arm-length gloves
at the door
of her frost-free refrigerator, its light on
our next Miss America! Velma
takes in sewing
through the week but says
she lives to sew. She gets to see
where shirts
and trousers give, hear wives
say timing’s all. Ask them to witness
Velma hasn’t
had a fellow of her own –
they will. I won’t, mouth full of heaven.
It’s clear
as gelatin through crystal,
no one’s readier than Velma
with such
sweetness and detail
for the ripe one when he falls.
with its risen peaches
after Sunday’s sermon: heaven.
Preacher
pecks her on the cheek
in instant appreciation. Congregation
pictures her
high-heeled and crowned,
bowl in hand, arm-length gloves
at the door
of her frost-free refrigerator, its light on
our next Miss America! Velma
takes in sewing
through the week but says
she lives to sew. She gets to see
where shirts
and trousers give, hear wives
say timing’s all. Ask them to witness
Velma hasn’t
had a fellow of her own –
they will. I won’t, mouth full of heaven.
It’s clear
as gelatin through crystal,
no one’s readier than Velma
with such
sweetness and detail
for the ripe one when he falls.
| The Honey Land Review Fall 2009 Volume 2, Issue 1 |
