Poetry by Renée M. Sgroi – 9/17

August on her hands

August on her hands
red and running with juice,
her body squat, around
a quickly filling bucket

cradling another tomato
sharp slice and sniff
(ripe or rotten test)
bruised skins shimmering
a late summer sun;


the children will return –
to school their yellowed pencils,
small hands carving
twenty-six letters
scent of basil, tomato leaves
greenness etched on hands

This poem was originally published in The Prairie Journal, Issue #65, 2016


a small child’s bootprints
sunk and speaking in the snow;
vanishing timespace

spring heron in flight
Rachmaninov’s opus soars;
eyes with new vision

leaves float in a creek
autumn insects sing laments;
sweetness of apples

ecstatic rush o
summer’s blooms on crisp clean sheets;
laughter at midday

This poem was originally published in The Banister, Vol. 30, 2015

Maritime sketches

each turn,
red fishing boat
moored to dock

hazy mist of ponds
tall grasses, lupins lambent
by the roadside

scent of coffee in our car,
early morning drives
wet by the dawn,
colouring windows

smell of cows and sheep
rolling into B&Bs or supermarts,
day’s long road
wrapped up in bibs
St. Margaret’s Church
basement lobster supper

and sounds of ceilidhs
in our ears,
wail of bagpipes
fiddle’s last bow

This poem was originally published in Verse Afire, Vol. 1, 2016


Renée M. Sgroi is a poet, writer, and educator, and current president of the Brooklin Poetry Society. She is also an Associate Member of the League of Canadian Poets, a member of The Ontario Poetry Society, and a member of the Association of Italian Canadian Writers (AICW). Her work has appeared in Canadian poetry journals such as Prairie Fire, Verse Afire, The Banister, and Prairie Journal. She is currently writing a chapbook focused on desire, and is polishing a fiction manuscript about identity. You can tweet her @ReneeMSgroi.