Northern New England Review Volume 42 | 2022
Northern New England Review is published as a creative voice for the Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine region. NNER publishes writers and artists who live in, are from, or have connections to Vermont, New Hampshire, or Maine. If you live here, were once from here, lost or found your heart here, or are currently searching for it among the green hills, sparkling ponds, and rocky coasts, NNER has the poems, short fiction, and creative nonfiction you want to read. Northern New England Review is edited and designed by students and faculty at Franklin Pierce University in Rindge, New Hampshire. Questions can be sent to Margot Douaihy, editor, at douaihym@franklinpierce.edu.
Northern New England Review is published as a creative voice for the Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine region. NNER publishes writers and artists who live in, are from, or have connections to Vermont, New Hampshire, or Maine. If you live here, were once from here, lost or found your heart here, or are currently searching for it among the green hills, sparkling ponds, and rocky coasts, NNER has the poems, short fiction, and creative nonfiction you want to read.
Northern New England Review is edited and designed by students and faculty at Franklin Pierce University in Rindge, New Hampshire. Questions can be sent to Margot Douaihy, editor, at douaihym@franklinpierce.edu.
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Miriam Levine
GERANIUM
When frost was certain,
I heaved a pot
of geranium up
by the rim, pushed
it into the house, lifted it
onto the bottom step,
then to each higher step.
The pot was too heavy
to carry without stopping
for a breath. I reached
the second floor and shoved
it to a southwest window.
Poor thing left to languish?
No! Fifteen months inside
and it’s blooming against cold
glass, the flower-head made
of smaller flowers, starry red
explosions, scalloped leaves
fed on nitrate, phosphate, potash
in sludge ground from fish parts.
The stems seem indifferent
to gravity. And the buds, too.
They cluster and swell
on spindles. Rub a leaf
against the nap—that scent
lemon-red and slightly
oily . . . I won’t move it. Some
plants prefer an inside room,
a high ceiling for a sky.
They don’t miss the stars.
I’d never put them on
NORTHERN NEW ENGLAND REVIEW | 53
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