Oddments

In search of story


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Connections: August 8.17

 My grandma’s tub had feet

and Olympic-pool-sized feeling

her toilet had a chain

that hung down from the ceiling.

More, the bathroom window

was tall and opened wide

so fresh air and scent of train

could cleanse the room inside.

Now I have this footless

peculiarity

someone mean invented

to taunt and bully me.

It can’t be cleaned without

risking tendinitis

when I fold to fit its contours

it gives me rigor mortis.

It’s called a garden tub

a pity and a shame

someone ought to sue

for slandering garden’s name.

The window can’t be opened

the toilet’s in a box

so I reach way back in memory

where my grandma’s bathroom rocks.

 

 

 

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Connections: July 11.17

When July comes out to play,

bouncing on trampoline leaf,

climbing monkey bar stems,

sliding down the smooth

shiny pepper,

cartwheeling,

hopscotching,

hide-and-seeking in

herb tunnels,

and no one knows

how green the world can be

until the hot light leap-frogs

over itself

and we wish we could snatch it

this limpid summer air

but

unpossessable

it mocks

catch me if you can!

like childhood,

then does the garden dapple

make us stop

to fetch a memory.

 

 

 

 

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Connections: June 27.17

The library was a bike ride away

back in the day

bumping up

oof

and down

ow

the curbs

back in the day

my kingdom for a basket!

handlebars and books

precarious one-girl circus

back in the day

a tiny place, that library

in a big summer

and the books whispered

take me for a ride on your bike

to that cushy old blanketed couch

in  your cool damp basement

and don’t forget

what this was like

back in the day.

 

 

 

 

Thanks again to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.

And thanks also to the Poquoson Library, Virginia, and all libraries!

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Connections: May 21.17

What’s in a back yard?

A little grass, a little sun

a little bit of garden

a little bit of fun

a haven for the rabbits

where dandelions bloom

the fresh-aired open-concept

original family room

where games and make-believe

work and play combine

but victim of aesthetics:

I miss the old clothesline.

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Connections: May 9.17

My grandma had a tiny house

if you take a yardstick measure

but it was huge in other ways:

curiosity and treasure.

The coolest stuff was hid away

but I knew where to find it

and she would let me hold it

and tell the tale behind it.

Now I’m packing up my house

which means, I’m sure you know,

packing up my family

striving to let go.

Memories sneak in everywhere

in closet and in drawer

one thing leads to another

as I’m sorting on the floor.

You will understand, I’m sure,

I hyperventilate

when I note the Christmas card box:

45 for $1.98!

And thus do different eras

re-tell themselves to me

as I wrap the family flotsam

as if crown jewelry.

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