Author Archives: Nicole Homer

About Nicole Homer

Nicole Homer is a: Writer. Teacher. Nerd. Mother. Backyard deer watcher. Stovetop popcorn popper. Tiny house enthusiast. Treehugger. Gardener. Curmudgeon. Part Roseanne Conner, part Sarah Connor. Curator of an immaculate sock collection. She lives online at http://nicolehomer.com/

#9 – Three Poems – Nicole Homer


 

Our third anniversary is on February 6th. This week we are counting down the top-ten most-read posts from the last year.

 

A Running List of Questions I Plan to Ask the Never-Married Girl Who Routinely 
Puts Down Married Sex and Who, Coincidentally, is Fucking My Husband

Do you know cute your arrogance is?
Why is it, exactly, you imagine his body is, only with you,
something snatched from an ee cummings poem?

Do you think you make it quite a new thing?
Have you heard the expression that steel against steel is sharpened?
Which part of me did you think you saw rust on?

Where do you think he learned practiced perfected everything you so enjoy?
How big is your alone? Do you set a place for it at the table or
is it a lapdog, hiding in your purse, and growling at sweet smelling strangers?

What were your parents like? Did you ever hear them in the night?
Did you think they were arguing?
All of those tricks of his –

where do you think he learned them?
Did you think you weren’t one of them? Continue reading

My Father Was Not the First One to Go

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Three Poems – Nicole Homer


 

A Running List of Questions I Plan to Ask the Never-Married Girl Who Routinely 
Puts Down Married Sex and Who, Coincidentally, is Fucking My Husband

Do you know cute your arrogance is?
Why is it, exactly, you imagine his body is, only with you,
something snatched from an ee cummings poem?

Do you think you make it quite a new thing?
Have you heard the expression that steel against steel is sharpened?
Which part of me did you think you saw rust on?

Where do you think he learned practiced perfected everything you so enjoy?
How big is your alone? Do you set a place for it at the table or
is it a lapdog, hiding in your purse, and growling at sweet smelling strangers?

What were your parents like? Did you ever hear them in the night?
Did you think they were arguing?
All of those tricks of his –

where do you think he learned them?
Did you think you weren’t one of them? Continue reading