Susan Martell Huebner
CONTACT:
Email: martells@wi.rr.com
Website: www.susanmhuebner.com
BIO:
Susan Martell Huebner lives and writes in Waukesha County. Nearest town is Big Bend, taxes paid to Town of Vernon, home address out of Mukwonago post office. Her writing genres reflect this mash-up: poetry a first love; literary fiction a close second; memoir and essay rank about even. Cawing Crow Press recently published her first novel She Thought the Door was Locked and she is thrilled to announce acceptance of a chapbook to be published by Finishing Line Press. Stay tuned!
PUBLICATIONS:
She Thought the Door was Locked (Novel), Cawing Crow Press.
Chapbook TBA, Finishing Line Press
Poetry
Peninsula Drift
It was our honeymoon
and my first time camping.
We hiked Minnehaha Trail along Nicolet Bay.
You picked a yellow daisy, tucked it behind your ear
then turned and smiled at me.
I took your picture.
Everything beamed exotic
birds, bees, waves, sand, sky, our campfire
popping sparks against the trees
ink-black sentinels standing inside the night.
Cuddled in our sleeping bags
I felt the ghosts from Blossomberg Cemetery
a river of souls and stars flowing
above our canvas lanterned cave.
I shivered and moved closer to you.
Perhaps I sensed the days to come
decades filed by the flint of time
narrowed to a single point
this day when you come to visit me
with your present wife bringing plants to share
hard-wrested from your garden.
My husband sits with you on the berm
talking vegetables, flowers, pests, rain.
He offers a hand to help you rise
but you refuse with a self-mocking laugh
grab your cane and struggle to standing.
I watch and remember that honeymoon night
when you grabbed a long stick and carried it
growling with menace into our tent to scare
the raccoons feasting on nectarines and caramel corn
masked thieves lurking everywhere
even then, in the dark.
Originally published in SOUNDINGS Door County in Poetry
Poet’s Ulysses Pact with the World
Hold me against the beauty of ordinary things
a steaming cup of coffee in the cool early morning
the whap of wind through damp sheets on the clothesline
one brilliant crow at the speckled granite birdbath
a wide-winged black arrow against the blue palette of sky
Hold me so I can bear the beauty of ordinary things
a heaven tall fir dancing with cone castanets
the white grace of birch filigreed with pink necklace buds
an unleafedApril heat striking wetwarmed earth
the rejoicing in ditches of wood frogs and spring peepers
Hold me against the beauty of ordinary things
so the flame of the Japanese maple cannot consume me
the color calliope of fallleaves on the sidewalk strike me blind
a child’s trusting hand in mine not drop me to my knees
make me weep with gratitude
Hold me fast against the extraordinary beauty of this ordinary world
so I may rest within its generous heart
Originally published in Blue Heron Review