 Ruth Z. Deming has had her work published in lit mags including Literary Yard, Blood and Thunder, Pure Slush, O-Dark-Thirty, and Your One Phone Call. A psychotherapist, she lives in Willow Grove, a suburb of Philadelphia. She's always proud to be published in Scarlet Leaf Review. MY NEW TEA KETTLE Ideas come in the middle of the night Woke up and remembered Thursday is Garbage Day Without a thought, I ran downstairs, grabbed Helene's old tea kettle, stains dripping across the sides like ruined Carthage In my brown and white nightie I placed it gentle as a newborn in my trash can Go with God, I wanted to say but didn't. As I read this morning's Times - and yay - there's a promising treatment for Alzheimer's An outrageous sound came from the kitchen. What's this? An aria by Leontyne or Sills? It's my new Bradford tea kettle bought for a song at The Giant Sipping now my Dunkin Donuts Coffee, hot and sweet as it goes down Perfect on a soggy day like today. <><> WINNIE’S PHILODENDRON Five years ago, Winnie’s cancer returned, determined to kill her. Hospice was at her sister’s house twenty minutes away. “Keep this for me, Ruthie,” she said, pointing to a huge container of dappled philodendron. I nearly failed in my mission to keep it alive. Brought it outside in the sunshine where it revived in the presence of sparrows, cardinals, and two tiny hummingbirds. “Winnie, I’ve kept my promise,” and water it on Thursdays. In doing so, I pretend that Winnie is still alive. <><> A HALCYON DAY Any day I'm still alive
is a great day for me. Six serious illnesses haunt this mortal body of mine. First thing I do is go out and water the garden. My love and I share it. He weeds, I water. Abundant kale, tiny green tomatoes ripening on the vine. And one peach on the peach tree. The others eaten by the squirrels, who squeezed between the carefully placed chicken wire. Each day the peach grows larger and larger. We cheer it on as if it were a Philly’s baseball game. Patience. Patience.
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