Her Soup Made the Moon Weep

Poems by

Carol Alena Aronoff, Ph.D.

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ISBN: 978-1-57733-212-1, 128 pp., 6 x 9, paperback, $14.95

Author of:
The Nature of Music

In her newest book of poetry, Her Soup Made the Moon Weep, Carol Alena Aronoff opens the door to her past. She reveals an ability to name people and experiences with hauntingly accurate detail. Aronoff's observations remind us of our own histories, the odd moments of chance or fate that brought strangers together to create family.

From her East Coast childhood, where she only wanted to be called "Dale Evans," to selling her wedding rings for living expenses, to her present-day homage to her table and couch, we know this is someone who speaks the truth. Her honesty often startles us. Her thought, "I hope I look good when I die," is a vulnerable revelation. When she unflinchingly admits to envy and to obsessing about Freud, we are allowed an intimate view of the poet's desire to understand, to name not only the physical, but also the inner-world she inhabits.

Aronoff's observations move easily from the personal to strangers, a V.A. hospital patient, the night porter at the Grand Hotel, the disenfranchised, and finally those damaged by "this war without end." She is always aware of the person beneath the facade, the tender humanity of the homeless woman or the middle-aged Harley-Davidson rider. No one escapes her observation or her compassion.

In her newest collection, Aronoff illustrates her poems with imagery that haunts long after the poems have been read. Her poems are written without excess, with just enough detail, just enough passion to hold the reader captive. When she says, "Everything is welcome here with no respect for order," we recognize her desire to embrace all of life, to accept what has arrived at her door without judgment. And as she unerringly bestows names on everyone and everything, we realize that ultimately, the poet has named herself.

From the Foreword by Colette Jonopulos, Co-editor, Tiger's Eye: A Journal of Poetry


"Carol's poems sparkle with memoirs of loved ones and favorite places and things, like hot pink lipstick that erases 'summer romance from a wolf's lips.' Put this book on your night stand, savor the poems--lovely and enjoyable before sleep." Jim Ciletti, 2003 Pike's Peak Poet of the Year, Sunfire and At the Crack of Dawn

"Dr. Carol Alena Aronoff has created a thoroughly engaging family album. Her poems of lineage introduce a cast of ancestry who will envelop you with their eccentricities for handling life and for shaping the temperament of those who follow them. Her poems of her own riverbed experiences will touch those of you who wade in the same life waters. Sit back, open your heart and invite these poems in for they have much to teach you." Linda Arnold, poet, Braided Lives: A Collaboration Between Artists and Poets

"Aronoff's new collection of poems is touchingly accessible and articulate, nostalgic without being overly sentimental, and truly '... stories that ... shade your dreams.'" Cheryl Loetscher, poet, Unclaimed Baggage

Table of Contents

Foreword by Colette Jonopulos

Advice to a Five-Year-Old
Grandma Anna
The Baron
Queen Esther’s Attic
Coney Island Summer
Dancing as Fast as I Can
Primal Colors
Walking on Rosh Hashanah
The Day Before Christmas
Playing Fort
Summer’s End
Radio Flyer
The House of My Mother Was Not an Hacienda
Mathematical Equations
Mother’s Day
Foundation Garment
Summer Heat

First Born
Surviving Autumn
The Visit
The Gift
Save the Last Dance
Bittersweet Chocolate
Compact Car Man
Obsessing about Freud
Twelve Causes of Irritation
Sunscreen Blues
Night Terrors
Reflections on Death
Searching for Sunflowers
Waters of Life

Bedside Watch
Sacred Geometry
Boys and Girl of Summer
Summer Rose
City Beat
Girls of No Privilege
VA Hospital Psych Ward, circa 1960’s
A Brief Farewell
Winter Weight
Motorcycle Maintenance
Betty Crocker’s Lament
Sugar Coated
Night Porter at the Grand Hotel
Weeping Widow
Tunnel Vision
Small Comfort
Don’t Ever Think ...

Table This Discussion
Household Seduction
If Sofas Could Speak
A Drawer for all Seasons
Garage Sale Grammar
Kitsch or Kvetch
Bookshelf Diplomats
What Do We Tell Them?
Food for Thought
Where Have All the Flowers Gone?
The Taste of Freedom
The Sacrifice
Letter to the Parents of Prospective Suicide Bombers
War Torn
The Red Shoes
Writing Pains
The Writing Life
Computer Breakdown No. 85
postmodern poem


Grandma Anna

Her soup made the moon weep
with gratitude.
Spinning webs of golden noodles
around our hearts,
she filled our pockets with good omens
and loved us
in the rhythms of the old country.

Each kiss was a blessing,
light as powdered sugar.
The air filled with the aroma
of good wishes
as she pinched our cheeks rosy
with soft praise.

Her movements were sweet poems,
slipped beneath our pillows
to insure safe dreams.
Her songs,
familiar melodies
stretching all the way back
to Jerusalem.

Pelican Pond, 2007

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