I thought I’d start a new theme, where every Sunday I will post a poem. This might be one of mine, one of my favorite poets, or a random new poet whom I just discovered. It could even be a fellow blogger!
Today, to get things started, I thought I’d share one of my old poems with you. Written at my time in college, I wrote the poem below on a melancholy afternoon in Worcester, MA.
I hope you enjoy!
Louise thought of all the places she was apart of:
May rivers where she’d thrown her teeth in,
The sidewalk she’d split her knee on,
Adam and Jenny. She thought of her blood sister,
A sharp-mouthed girl with thick limbs
and a knack for math.
She was a part of her too, she supposed.
Louise thought of her husband;
His thighs covered in her sickly sweet juices.
She thought of how much of him
Was inside of her.
She wondered if she could ever get him out.
She remembered a nosebleed on a gymnasium floor,
A janitor’s red mop pushing against dirty wood.
She thought of her neighbor’s piercing job,
A flame-lit needle in her fleshy earlobe.
She was part there, too.
She recalled college, a night of casual sex
With a woman from Tahiti.
Inside of her was a mother, no father.
Nothing but an X to the equation.
She made punnet squares and traced her lineage
With white and pink roses.
She pulled down a box from a shelf in her closet.
She was inside there, too; in every word she wrote.
The stride of her step was her, the scent of her body after sleep.
Her brother was apart of her too.
He was like the sun, present even when gone.
She thought about medical centers, two-thousand
Mile trips to an unknown world.
She thought of Grisham and her time devoted to tennis.
Surely she was apart of the clay? Had she not sweat
And swelled with the court?
Louise stopped thinking and put the box of writings back
On the high shelf behind her mother’s tablecloths.
She crossed the room to a picture of her family
In a park in Maine.
She was apart of the tress in the distance,
The setting sun,
The roaming Humpback whales.