Georgia Ressmeyer


Georgia Ressmeyer, an east coast native, has lived in Wisconsin since 1974, first as an attorney and now as a poet. Twice a winner of grants from the Wisconsin Arts Board, she has published fiction, numerous poems, an award-winning poetry chapbook, Today I Threw My Watch Away (Finishing Line Press, 2010), and a full-length poetry collection, Waiting to Sail (Black River Press, 2014). She lives in Sheboygan, near Lake Michigan. 

Today I Threw My Watch Away, Finishing Line Press, 2010
Waiting to Sail, Black River Press, 2014



I am a Poet-dog
yipping at the ankles of
the Sun and Moon
for word-scraps
from their table.

When Wind begins
scattering morsels
I leap and catch
the choicest ones
to keep me running.

If they are dry
I drop them in
my bowl of Lake
and they get soggy.
It is a mean

existence, all abject
begging for mere
jots and mutters.
I am a poet-Dog,
perpetually hungry.

First published in
Wisconsin People & Ideas

Inside Out

Shake winter if you can —
like an old rug in a mudroom
flecked with birdseed waste
once cased in ice that your
boots tracked into the house.

Shake it over snow, so any
tiny, unused seeds can grow —
only to be weeded out by you
in spring when mud’s the
clutter that you bring inside.

Boots, snow, birdseed, hungry
doves, grubby mats, sprouting
plants, mud-caked clogs —
you go from season to season
acquainting and reacquainting

the outside with the inside,
the inside with the out. Do you
doubt the value of this exchange?
No, you don’t — not while
you’re able to heft a rug and

stomp a shoe, listen to birds
chirp, whistle, coo, trill. This
is your part in life: track mud
and waste into the house, shake
the mat, put fresh seed out.

First published in Peninsula Pulse
Honorable Mention, The Hal Grutzmacher
Writers’ Expose, 2013