The Apostrophe Blog
Photo by Martin Lewison
My poem, “Runaway,” appeared in the print collection, Not Somewhere Else But Here: A Contemporary Anthology of Women and Place, published by Sundress Publications in 2014. It was also included in my poetry collection, Every Door Recklessly Ajar.
RUNAWAY
From the vinegar of a small town hell-bent to pickle its vulnerable, the tender ones
bottled and stopped by the age of eighteen. From the tentacles belching ire up
the grates, an open-jawed furnace to cinder every birthright, no matter if buckwheat,
chestnut, pea. From the ration stamps of get along, coupons thumbed until worn,
a pinching of pennies and cheeks. From the dizzy of a nosegay, bow-tied on birthdays,
eau de toilette compliments of Jean Naté. From the lovelorn blasted, buried by
dime store rumors, every dowry of resignation grateful for a run-down half of
a double-block. From a washboard pitted with ache, jutting from the unclear suds
in a galvanized tub. From the busybody’s clothesline inventory — what you are
hanging, what you are not. From the alibi you’re a beggar seeking refuge in
a sonata, your sole audience a moth. To be the fickle consort of an inkwell,
the one who’ll spend decades disparaging comfort, her hair knotty, and unkempt.
Interests: Reading, writing, not arithmetic. The art and craft of poetry. Photography. Vegetable and flower gardening especially heirloom bulbs and dahlias. Movies in real theatres. Theatre on real stages. Art in real galleries. Crossword puzzles and, of course, Wordle. Singer-songwriters like Aimee Mann and Patti Griffin. All kinds of music especially 1930s jazz. Venice, Italy! The Dude abides.
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