This website includes my (growing) collection of poems published on Medium, Substack, and elsewhere, starting from the day my mother died, November 1, 2023, to the present.

For a complete listing of links to my poems and other cool stuff:

https://nolchafox2.wixsite.com/blog

Nolcha Fox

Mar 25, 20241 min read

No Reason to Get Too Enthusiastic

It’s useless to put all my sweaters away. They tell me it’s spring, but it’s snowing. I want to get out all my gardening gear, but all of...

Nolcha Fox

Mar 24, 20241 min read

My Butt

I swear it spread and swelled while I was sleeping. It takes up more than half the bed. It wiggles when I’m not. What gives? What jeans...

Nolcha Fox

Mar 24, 20241 min read

First to Leave

You were always first to leave, the first to put on coat and hat when wine was barely served, the first to walk away in midst of heated...

Nolcha Fox

Mar 23, 20241 min read

Leaves Don’t Leave

A few refuse to leave the tree. They cling to branches, never mind the wind and snow. Perhaps they think in spring they will rejuvenate,...

Nolcha Fox

Mar 23, 20241 min read

The Perfect Kitchen

I proudly placed our new microwave on the counter. Now our kitchen was complete. Come to find it blocked the light switch, but moved...

Nolcha Fox

Mar 23, 20241 min read

They Meet for Coffee

Every Wednesday, on the dot at 9 o’clock (unless the weather’s bad) the old guys meet. Same table at the diner, though there’s fewer of...

Nolcha Fox

Mar 22, 20241 min read

Ready or Not

My mother was a butterfly, a grasshopper. She flitted between flowers, basked in the sun. She sparkled. She gave no thought to the coming...

Nolcha Fox

Mar 20, 20241 min read

Who Knows What to Expect

The weather is late again, bringing rain instead of wine. She’s still dressed in her pajamas, too distracted by my ex-husband to remember...

Nolcha Fox

Mar 20, 20241 min read

I’m No Barbie

My Barbie never aged, she always looked the same, with boobs that should have brought her to the ground. Her hair was always perfect. Her...

Nolcha Fox

Mar 19, 20241 min read

Emily, I Can’t Pet Sit Anymore

I’m sorry, Emily, you need to get Hope out of here as soon as possible. It’s wrecking our lives and our home. We’ll have to replace the...

Nolcha Fox

Mar 19, 20241 min read

The Poet and Her Husband Go to the Market

Her husband drives them to the market. The poet sees the leaves as little cups of sunlight. Her husband comments about the sorry state of...

Nolcha Fox

Mar 17, 20241 min read

Knitted Together

While waiting in line, the woman behind me knitted my hair into a baby blanket for a child on the bus that never came. The woman knitted...

Nolcha Fox

Mar 17, 20241 min read

Teeth

Tall buildings are teeth, pulverizing the skyline so that clouds can bleed the sun. Look out the window. At the perfect, perforated...

Nolcha Fox

Mar 17, 20241 min read

Exposure

Pure sunlight exposes the wrinkles of a folded life. Age crumples the paper cutout of my limited time. Makeup cannot hide the ruts of...

Nolcha Fox

Mar 16, 20241 min read

Time Has Wings Made of Wax

Time thinks he’s free to fly rings round the sun. He can’t feel the drag we poor souls add to minutes as we hitch a ride, clinging...

Nolcha Fox

Mar 16, 20241 min read

Broken Again

All of me is shards, as though I were a bowl, a mirror, pomegranate, something whole that death smashed with a fist. My insides greet the...

Nolcha Fox

Mar 15, 20241 min read

Unexplained

He was alarmed to see his sons leave sprint marks on the lawn. His sweat and strain was all in vain in less than half a second. Looking...

Nolcha Fox

Mar 15, 20241 min read

Homage to My Hips

My hips knock glasses off tables. My hips knock cans off shelves. My hips knock eyeballs out of sockets. My hips pop jeans seams. My hips...

Nolcha Fox

Mar 15, 20241 min read

Another Family Dinner

We’re gathered around the table, eating with the ghosts. They know a chair is waiting. There’s always too much food. We pass the sweet...

Nolcha Fox

Mar 14, 20241 min read

Crushed Shadows

Before I can understand what I’ve lost, grief crushes me with awkward mumbles from well-wishers. It suffocates me under floral...