Ch. 12: Imagining the unimaginable
a 40 year old woman,
half her life ahead.
a jar of coins,
colored silver and copper,
metals dead long ago.
she strums a ukelele,
waits for the jar to fill.
a ticket to her mother,
back to Oregon,
to pictures of the retreiver
she rolled with in grass
thirty-some years ago.
but her whole life
lies behind her.
an empty jar and a ticket,
seat thirty-three E,
won't save her from
the sleeping semi driver.
the woman waiting in Oregon
will fly to South Carolina.
She will sleep in a house
foreign to her, fold blankets
she never bought.
the flowered yard will dance
and smile, regardless.
purples and reds;
tulips and wildflowers.
her mother will spread the ashes
along some sandy coast
where singing girls,
barefoot, will unknowingly
blend into her life.
Kris,
ReplyDeleteYou’ve done some interesting things in this piece. The separation into two stanzas that depict a drastically different existence (or non-existence, as the case may be) for the women in the piece offers stronger delineation than breaking it into multiple stanzas would have done. The descriptions are strong and engaging. I like the equation of the tip jar and the ticket home. The reflection of “thirty-some years ago” from the first stanza in “seat thirty-three E” in the next works well in the piece. You might consider making the two destinations more local by naming the towns in each state, or increasing description for the Oregon home, I think that could only increase the effectiveness of the piece. I think the closing works nicely, too. I really like the idea of the barefoot girls blending with the daughter that has passed, unknowingly. This is a really nice draft, so far.