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my sanity at the five-and-dime
by Rachelle Howei've found that stones are
more practical than cement.
you cannot put a slab in your pocket.
you cannot take them with you, and
i like to travel light.
once i thought that people
would be better if
you could make them tactile,
if you could push your fingers
through their marrow,
push them deepdeep,
into bone and flesh and
scar engravings.
trace the lines,
trace the intricacies
established by fangs and finger-
nails.
i've named them all
after a purchased memory.
the pricetags were left
on blue sticker and i
thanked the cashier
as she handed me change.
she was chewing gum.
chewedchewedchewed,
like my insides had been.
she was, of course,
oblivious to the insult.
i had to inform her.
as i did, she just blinked.
once, twice, a third, and
i thought, as her hand inched
toward the over-head receiver,
that she would call security.
(now there's one thing
i've never had.)
03/19/2005 Author's Note: whee.
Posted on 03/19/2005
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Lori Johnson on 03/21/05 at 08:06 PM Oh how I've missed you...& your eloquent tact. LOL
;) |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 03/22/05 at 04:21 AM Too true. You rarely get security when security is called. You must have verses tattoo'd on your flesh for the amount of times I've readreadread you. As always, excellent read. :) |
| Posted by Ginette T Belle on 03/22/05 at 08:40 PM i love the way you delved into this...great poem dear |
| Posted by JD Clay on 03/26/05 at 05:35 PM What a wonderful narrative poem. I especially like the direction it takes, one of self-discovery. You've exposeded an interesting dichotomy here, Rachelle, calling security and feeling secure. Hmmmmm! Good stuf!
pe4ce... |
| Posted by Mainon A Schwartz on 04/18/05 at 11:03 PM I love it, I truly do-- I feel like I don't breathe as deeply when I'm not reading you often enough. I like hte blinking of the salesclerk especially, like I was right behind you in line, confused as everyone else. To be honest, though, (because I always am, with you), the "little sally" phrase threw me quite a lot-- who's sally, and what did i miss, and why is it in the poem? I think you keep the integrity of the poem more tightly if you don't name names, just you and the salesclerk whose name you don't know anyway... Ah, and I love the first stanza as well. I'm going to start carrying stones instead of concrete slabs as well. ;-) |
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