Tag: Agnes Vojta

Agnes Vojta: “Gone Fishing”

Posted on by asitoughttobemagazine 
Gone Fishing

A storefront window on Main Street
displays a collection of wooden rainbow
trout. Carved and painted to look real,
their speckled bodies curl in mid-jump

next to a model ship with billowing sails,
an engraved sign reading Jeremiah Hale,
Attorney at Law, and a set of scales.
The lights in the office are off.

Perhaps the attorney has gone fishing,
wades knee-deep in the cold river,
hears the kingfishers shriek from bank to bank,
watches silvery fish dance in the reeds.

Perhaps he sits in the dusty backroom
on a desk that is suffocating with papers
and dreams of a ship with white sails
that will come to carry him far away.

About the Author: Agnes Vojta grew up in Germany and now lives in Rolla, Missouri where she teaches physics at Missouri S&T and hikes the Ozarks. She is the author of Porous Land, The Eden of Perhaps, and A Coracle for Dreams, all published by Spartan Press. Together with eight other poets she collaborated on the book Wild Muse: Ozarks Nature Poetry (Cornerpost Press, 2022.) Her poems have appeared in a variety of magazines; you can read some of them on her website agnesvojta.com.

Image Credit: John William Lewin Fish catch and Dawes Point, Sydney Harbour (1813) Public domain image courtesy of Artvee.

Agnes Vojta: “Darkroom”

Posted on by asitoughttobemagazine 
Darkroom

He loves the slow and lonely work.
In the orange glow, he watches
shadows grow on the paper,
darkening shapes blossom.

From his test prints, he knows
how long the photo needs to soak
in the developer, when to move
it to the stop bath, to the fixer.

At the end of the day, ten portraits
will hang on the drying line:
acrobats, jugglers, stilt-walkers,
dancers – street performers, captured

mid-flow. He dislikes poses,
and circus acts that are now
all about break-neck speed.
Speed is not important to him.

He bicycles, travels by train,
eschews the subway, walks instead
unbothered by his luggage – how
can he see if he is underground?

He does not show his photographs.
They cover the walls in his house:
clowns, mimes, and fire-eaters, none
looking towards the audience.

About the Author: Agnes Vojta grew up in Germany and now lives in Rolla, Missouri where she teaches physics at Missouri S&T and hikes the Ozarks. She is the author of Porous Land, The Eden of Perhaps, and A Coracle for Dreams, all published by Spartan Press. Together with eight other poets she collaborated on the book Wild Muse: Ozarks Nature Poetry (Cornerpost Press, 2022.) Her poems have appeared in a variety of magazines; you can read some of them on her website agnesvojta.com.

Image Credit: John William Lewin Fish catch and Dawes Point, Sydney Harbour (1813) Public domain image courtesy of Artvee.

Agnes Vojta: “Waking up in India to the News that Mike is Dead”

Posted on by asitoughttobemagazine 
Waking up in India to the News that Mike is Dead

                       “I will bathe in memory and in loss.”
                      - Mike James

In the tropical night, I wake, fiddle with my phone, see the news.
You knew it was coming. My last submission. I did not expect it so soon.

I sit under a Banyan tree and study its aerial roots. I cannot remember
what you wrote about trees.

On my laptop, I re-read our chats. I want to download and save them.
As if that could keep you here.

At a deserted playground, monkeys scamper up and down the slide.
They know nothing of poetry.

I copied lines from your poems, carried them as a talisman,
taped them above my desk.

I wonder what you would have packed if you could have taken a suitcase.
I hear the list in your voice.

It sounds as if you are reading one of your prose poems.

About the Author: Agnes Vojta grew up in Germany and now lives in Rolla, Missouri where she teaches physics at Missouri S&T and hikes the Ozarks. She is the author of Porous Land, The Eden of Perhaps, and A Coracle for Dreams, all published by Spartan Press. Together with eight other poets she collaborated on the book Wild Muse: Ozarks Nature Poetry (Cornerpost Press, 2022.) Her poems have appeared in a variety of magazines; you can read some of them on her website agnesvojta.com.

Image Credit: Carol M. Highsmith “Fort Myers, a small city on Florida’s southwest coast along the Gulf of Mexico calls itself the Palm City but its most iconic leafy specimens are the immense banyan trees downtown” Public domain image courtesy of the Library of Congress

Agnes Vojta: “The Pope Coffin”

Posted on by Chase Dimock 
The Pope Coffin

I do not know whether dad
believed in heaven.
He had a sense for the sacred.
Sometimes all you see is the fruit;
the root remains secret.

My father never discussed death,
except to say he wanted a coffin
like Pope John Paul II: clear
lines, no frivolous embellishments –
an architect’s choice.

The minister spoke about the city-to-come,
solemn and hopeful, consoling
without the saccharine promises
dad would have hated. One must leave
space for uncertainty.

About the Author: Agnes Vojta grew up in Germany and now lives in Rolla, Missouri where she teaches physics at Missouri S&T and hikes the Ozarks. She is the author of Porous Land, The Eden of Perhaps, and A Coracle for Dreams, all published by Spartan Press. Most recently, she has been collaborating with eight other poets on the book Wild Muse: Ozarks Nature Poetry (Cornerpost Press, 2022.) Her poems have appeared in a variety of magazines; you can read some of them on her website agnesvojta.com.

Image Credit: Jules-Edmond-Charles Lachaise “Design for a ceiling with trompe l’oeil balustrade and sky” Public domain image courtesy of Artvee

Agnes Vojta: “The Topography of Grief”

Posted on by asitoughttobemagazine 
The Topography of Grief

The topography of grief is karst,
riddled with sinkholes
that suddenly open
under your feet, swallow you whole.

I don’t know what I expected
to feel. Not this emptiness.
Not nothing. I don’t cry
at the sight of my dad’s signature.

The letter from probate court
I’ve been expecting. I know
what it contains: a form letter
and a copy of dad’s will.

I cry when I pack his chessboard,
lay the wooden pieces to rest
in their velvet-lined compartments,
close the box, latch the lid.

About the Author: Agnes Vojta grew up in Germany and now lives in Rolla, Missouri where she teaches physics at Missouri S&T and hikes the Ozarks. She is the author of Porous Land, The Eden of Perhaps, and A Coracle for Dreams, all published by Spartan Press. Most recently, she has been collaborating with eight other poets on the book Wild Muse: Ozarks Nature Poetry (Cornerpost Press, 2022.) Her poems have appeared in a variety of magazines; you can read some of them on her website agnesvojta.com.

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Image Credit: Chase Dimock “Utah Karst” (2021)

Agnes Vojta: “After surgery”

Posted on by asitoughttobemagazine 
After surgery 

he surfaces drowsy 
from anesthesia
sees his wife 
by his bedside
reaches out 
his hand feels 
her shoulder blade
relieved he sighs
“No wings! 
I am alive!”

About the Author: Agnes Vojta grew up in Germany and now lives in Rolla, Missouri where she teaches physics at Missouri S&T and hikes the Ozarks. She is the author of Porous Land (Spartan Press, 2019) and The Eden of Perhaps (Spartan Press, 2020), and her poems have appeared in a variety of magazines.

Image Credit: Karl Wiener “Komposition aus ‘Pflaster und Wiese’ X (1924) Public domain image courtesy of Artvee

Agnes Vojta: “I don’t usually pray”

Posted on by asitoughttobemagazine

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I don’t usually pray


My father is still alive
when I switch off the phone
to board the plane.
My mother pleads
with him: hang on, wait,
just one more night.

I ask for a glass of wine.
I don’t usually drink.
Today I hope it dulls
the edge of grief,
lulls me to forget
where I travel.

Over the Atlantic,
I dissolve in weeping.
I don’t usually cry.
The flight attendant asks
if she can do anything.
Make the plane fly faster.

I keep checking the flight status.
I will search my sister’s face
when she picks me up.
I don’t usually pray.
Today I pray.
To be in time.

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About the Author: Agnes Vojta grew up in Germany and now lives in Rolla, Missouri where she teaches physics at Missouri S&T and hikes the Ozarks. She is the author of Porous Land (Spartan Press, 2019) and The Eden of Perhaps (Spartan Press, 2020), and her poems have appeared in a variety of magazines.

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More By Agnes Vojta:

Legend

Sisyphus Calls It Quits

Flotsam

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Image Credit: Chase Dimock “Airplane over the Beach” (2021)

Agnes Vojta: “Waiting for news from the hospital”

Posted on by asitoughttobemagazine

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Waiting for news from the hospital

she is on her knees
scrubbing the kitchen tiles
square by grey square.
The dark lines of grout
meet at right angles.

She erases
a splatter of tomato sauce,
a dusting of flour,
a smear of mud,
scours

until the floor is so clean
she wants to lie down,
cheek to the cool tile,
and breathe
the faint lemon smell.

She wipes her forehead,
stands up and paces
the empty house
looking for something
else to clean.

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About the Author: Agnes Vojta grew up in Germany and now lives in Rolla, Missouri where she teaches physics at Missouri S&T and hikes the Ozarks. She is the author of Porous Land (Spartan Press, 2019) and The Eden of Perhaps (Spartan Press, 2020), and her poems have appeared in a variety of magazines.

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More By Agnes Vojta:

Legend

Sisyphus Calls It Quits

Flotsam

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Image Credit: Chase Dimock “Tiled Corner” (2021)

Poetry Soundbite: A Reading and Interview with Agnes Vojta

Posted on by asitoughttobemagazine

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Agnes Vojta author photo 2

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Welcome to AIOTB Magazine’s fifth Poetry Soundbite, an on-going series of poetry readings and interviews. For this edition, we welcome Agnes Vojta, a poet who grew up in Germany and now lives in Rolla, Missouri where she teaches physics at Missouri S&T and hikes the Ozarks. She is the author of Porous Land (Spartan Press, 2019) and The Eden of Perhaps (Spartan Press, 2020), and her poems have appeared in a variety of magazines.

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More By Agnes Vojta:

Legend

Sisyphus Calls It Quits

Flotsam

Agnes Vojta: “Love, After Fifty Years”

Posted on by asitoughttobemagazine

 

 

Love, after fifty years,

is an old woman
riding the bus
for an hour
to a nursing home.

Her husband does not speak.
She does not have much
to say, but today his fingers
closed around her hand.

She stays until the end
of the allowed time.
She will have just missed
the bus. She wanders

the cobblestone streets
of the small town.
Most shops closed at five.
A bakery is still open.

She buys a cookie
to eat on the way.
It is autumn, the dusk
falls early. She rides

home through the dark.
When she steps into her empty
house, she hopes
she will get to do this
again soon.

 

 

About the Author: Agnes Vojta grew up in Germany and now lives in Rolla, Missouri where she teaches physics at Missouri S&T and hikes the Ozarks. She is the author of Porous Land (Spartan Press, 2019) and The Eden of Perhaps (Spartan Press, 2020), and her poems have appeared in a variety of magazines.

 

More By Agnes Vojta:

Legend

Sisyphus Calls It Quits

Flotsam

 

Image Credit: Jack Delano “Old woman waiting for a bus in front of her house. Newtown, Connecticut” (1940) The Library of Congress (Public Domain)