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Umbrella
by Ken HarnischDon’t get up
I know my way to your door
The umbrella still sits at an angle
In the can near the closet
And though it has long stopped raining
I think it would be better if I left
No mementoes behind.
It is a raggedy thing now
The fold and creases
Put there the thousand or so times
I tried in profane frustration to
Wrap the thing in its Velcro straps
And make it neat again.
It never seemed to work
The gnomes in the umbrella factory who
Made it all pristine the first time
Did not leave their magic dust
For me to sprinkle on my
Shaking hands, or the heart
That put form before function
And made a mess of both
I admire the Asian women I see
Who carry umbrellas in the sun
To ward off its harmful rays.
I will not go that far;
It was hard enough to find
One I wanted to carry in the rain
And when I did, it never
Did the job of keeping all the water
From my face
Still, it is my umbrella
And I’d rather it sit
Behind my door
Than gather dust here
Until you throw some yard sale
In front of yours.
05/14/2008 Posted on 05/14/2008
Copyright © 2025 Ken Harnisch
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 05/14/08 at 03:46 PM Really nice write Ken. Sounds like a wet breakup so certainly take the umbrella and head for shelter. I don't think the rain has really stopped yet. |
| Posted by Sandy M. Humphrey on 05/14/08 at 09:10 PM There is a lonliness in the tattered umbrella and the ending of this relationship, nice metaphor and great image...favorite line "I tried in profane frustration to
Wrap the thing in its Velcro straps
And make it neat again." Could be said of both the umbrella and the relationship. Well done. smh
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| Posted by Elizabeth Shaw on 05/15/08 at 02:09 AM This is so heart wrenching. To feel such as this and express it so, its beauty tugs my heart. |
| Posted by Kristine Briese on 05/20/08 at 03:08 PM Heartbreaking, but a beautiful piece. |
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