Return to Content

Poetry of Claire Hersom

Poetry of Claire Hersom
0 votes, 0.00 avg. rating (0% score)

 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.

 

Tags:
Yankee Magazine Advertising

Bring New England Home
plus, get the Tablet Edition FREE!

In this issue: Summer Off the Beaten Path

  • 12 Best Places to Picinic
  • Acadian Pride in Northern Maine
  • Saying Goodbye to a Summer Home
  • Hidden Gems in the Upper CT Valley
Subscribe Today and Save 44%

One Response to Poetry of Claire Hersom

  1. Doris Matthews February 13, 2009 at 7:32 pm #

    One of my jobs on the farm as a young girl was to help my grandfather when it was time to slaughter a few chickens for our family of 7 children, my two sets of grandparents and my mother and father. Being fleet of foot, I would chase and chase until I successfully tackled a chicken and proudly delivered it to him where he promptly slit its throat and drained the blood before dunking in the pail of hot, steaming water. Reading your poem brought the smell of that pail right back into my nose!

Leave a Reply

Comments maybe edited for length and clarity.

Register Sign In

©2013, Yankee Publishing Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Yankee Publishing Inc., | P.O. Box 520, Dublin, NH 03444 | (603) 563-8111

2014-july-regsub-windowshade600x350