Small Cruelties
Your weekly Mary Oliver poem and writing prompt.
Welcome to Dream Work: A Year-Long Writing Journey with Mary Oliver
In the spirit of immersing myself deeper in the practice and studying of nature poetry,
I am embarking on a year-long writing journey with Mary Oliver, reading a single poem of hers each day and then writing one in response to it.
I’m bringing you along on the journey. Every Sunday, I share a Mary Oliver poem, one of mine I’ve written in response, along with a poetry prompt for you to write your own in conversation with her.
Each week, we will gather in the comments section and share our Mary Oliver inspired poetry with each other.
We Should Be Well Prepared Mary Oliver The way the plovers cry goodbye. The way the dead fox keeps on looking down the hill with open eye. The way the leaves fall, and then there’s the long wait. The way someone says we must never meet again. The way mold spots the cake, The way sourness overtakes the cream. The way the river water rushes by, never to return. The way the days go by, never to return. The way somebody comes back, but only in a dream.
How to Prepare a Fish
Ash Kilback
The way my mother-in-law washes the frozen fish in cold water with her bare hands.
The way she uses the scissors to cut off the small fins, drops them into the empty sink.
The way she removes the scales with a metal scalpel, meant to cut a grapefruit.
The way she cuts the body from belly to throat, pries it open with her knuckles.
The way she holds the intestines in her palm, like a purse made from pearls of blood.
The way she lays the hollow body on the silver dish and dresses it with sliced ginger.
The way I stand at the sink next to her and memorize every subtle gesture.
The way she teaches me how to commit a small act of cruelty.
The way we sit at the kitchen table after and suck the meat off the fine bones.
The way we leave nothing, except the curvature of the spine, fully intact.
This Week’s Prompt: Small Cruelties
This week, write a response poem inspired by Mary Oliver’s, We Should Be Well Prepared, where she writes a list of the small cruelties we are touched by in everyday life. The cycle of life & death that we witness in the natural world and in our everyday lives. You can begin your poem how Mary does, with repeating each line with ‘the way..’ or simply write a list poem detailing small cruelties.
Come back to the comments on this post next Sunday, February 15th and share your poem.


-The Machine-
The way I feel utterly alone.
In a marriage.
In motherhood.
In the world.
I return to the woods to feel whole.
I feel a part of the machine of the world.
There are no complexities here.
Safety in knowing how a fox will act.
Safety in knowing how the tree with sway.
Safety in knowing how the river will flow, on any given day.
I come back to feel whole.
So...I wrote a whole other poem and maybe I will make that one into a post like I had planned and link it tomorrow. But, after a day, and reading Danii's poem in the comments, I wrote a whole other poem. It might not be good. But it sure was cathartic. Thank you to anyone who reads it.
The Weight of It
The way that everyone wants to be inclusive
As long as it is not inconvenient;
The way that people stop and stare
When he gets too close or echoes too loudly.
The way that we may never just get to go
To the symphony and call it a win.
The way that sometimes I wonder If a physical deformity might make it easier—
Mark us, undeniably, as "other"—
Until I remember that people are who they are.
The way that I can’t ever seem to stop hoping
That people might rise.
The way that that woman made my sweet girl cry today.
The way her brain is precious too,
And it isn’t fair that she has to be the ‘easy’ one.
The way that I can feel a whole landscape
Of emotions within the span of an hour;
The way that sometimes I can’t even cry
Because that would take
More than I have to give.