
an on-line poetry magazine
for the 21st century
Winter 2025-2026
Barbara Ann Branca
COSMOS
I knew it was a pretty long walk, like a mile!
Dad usually drove to the green grocer
But he wasn’t home yet
Mom gave me some change
She called it silver, though it wasn’t really
Go buy a big head of lettuce for supper
I was almost there when I passed that empty lot
So many flowers had taken it over
They looked like pink and purple daisies with a yellow sun in the center
The stems were like wild feathery weeds blowing in the summer breeze
My friend Linda had them in her yard
She told me they were called cosmos
And cosmos also meant the universe or something like that
I rounded the corner to John’s green grocery store
Right out front was a big wooden table filled to overflowing
The biggest, shiniest lettuces I ever saw were there waiting for me
And now I knew why they call it a head of lettuce
They were big and round as a head–and only a dime
John put the best one in a brown paper bag
Told me to hold the bag from the bottom
When I passed the cosmos flowers again I got thinking
Lettuce heads look kind of like the earth, big and round
Cosmos look like a bursting sun with pink sunbeams
Lots of things look like other things in nature
That bag weighed a ton by the time I got home
I’d walked the whole neighborhood, my whole cosmos
But there was more to learn about how things can look alike
Mom laughed when she opened the heavy bag
But I could tell she was a little mad at me
When she said she’d have to make coleslaw
That’s what you do with a big head of Long Island cabbage
Barbara Ann Branca has read from her chapbook Flash Flood on National Public Radio and at venues throughout New York City and Long Island Author of several science books, a former college adjunct and university communications director with lifelong passions for the environment and music, she’s never shy about stepping up to the microphone.
