Free Verse
Marsh River Editions

Catch and Release
Chasing Saturday Night
in search of "Green Dolphin Street"
Lines on Lake Winnebago
Loose Change
Mead
Saying Grace
Slightly Off Q
Something Near the Dance Floor
Waiting For Beethoven
Walnut from Waterloo

"Before Spiders Got Scary"

This morning I crawled under the porch
to help nail the latticework in place and
heard an Eeeaahhhkeee, 600 miles away.
Hey, Ginger, I hollered back forty years.
Lace up your saddle shoes, tie up your ponytail,
grab the Jif, Welch's, Wonder Bread
and come join me in the dirt.

It's cool under here and there's lots of light.
Bring your jacks. I'll smooth out a spot
on this secret-hiding-place floor.
Feel these smooth, metal stars.
Hear this red rubber ball plock, plock, plock
against the summer-baked earth.
Let's see who makes it to fivesies first.

We'll listen for the Dilly Wagon's distant music.
You can snap our shared blue Popsicle
into perfect halves against the sole of my shoe.
This is a day before Coke has caffeine and Fritos have fat;
a day when trees are for climbing and puddles for splashing,
when our favorite necklace is a skate key on a string
and we tell time by street lights.

This is a day when our only work is to play
when we don't creak if we crawl
and hiding is just for fun.
A long ago time when a 45 means music
and war is a game of cards.
A once upon a time, before we realize
spiders sometimes bite.

Sue De Kelver spins poetry, like all good narratives, from true life. Her poems are patterned with delight, heartbreak and humor. They navigate through the unearthed memory of childhood, the familiar landscape of home, and the epiphany of forgiveness. She proves that poetry and the words themselves can mark those moments in which the past becomes fused with the present.

-Ellen Kort
Wisconsin State Poet Laureate
and author of twelve books

Sue De Kelver writes strong and gusty poetry, pensive and whimsical, that lifts and carries us high above the lines, the lineations and margins, and gives us a view of the whole unbroken world, the was and the will be, and the most simple moments of now. This is a woman who "puts rocks / in her pocket on windy days" as she walks in her herb garden, and yet remains "ever mindful of the nettle / always hugging the lamb's ear border," should she need a safe place to land. Put your faith in the nettle, go with these strong, gusty poems.

- Louis McKee