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Vera Kilgore Heilig: Her Poetry Lives (2017) H. Morris Williams, Marie Law Haire

Gnarled Heart

Oh surely, surely my heart must be

As gnarled and bent as the twisted tree
Whose branches writhe between sky and hill,

Whose roots hang on with a bulldog will
To the hard brown earth it stands upon—

Stark and alone in the chill grey dawn.
But the twisted tree is a lovely thing

When the buds break through as sure as Spring.

And seeing the tree fight up from the sod
I will lift my tortured heart to God.

And surely, surely my heart will be
As strong and sure as the twisted tree.

I Do Not Like Thee Mr. Bell

When he dreamed up the telephone

Mr. Bell could not have known

There are times my phone will ring:
When I’m taking a nap, or a bath, or when

I’ve gone to another room, and then
Stop short before I can get to it

So only a buzz is coming through it.
He couldn’t know this sort of thing,

So I will not consign to Hell

The well-intentioned Mr. Bell.

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