Spent Staples
I hate these unseraphed U’s that
crash from the freight train, catch in loopholes.
Sting a bare toe. Jab under a
fingernail.
That one beaten and collapsed,
schizophrenic in the rain.
They pile up – ant husks in the
curved tray in my desk drawer.
Misfired. One a victim of righteous
whacking,
another my anger at the IRS audit
of charitable contributions,
another the way her invoices fell
apart
and I forgot which therapy session
was which.
Can I recycle failures without
hurting someone?
The Altar Boy in New
Orleans Three Weeks After Katrina
Men
sprayed our car with decontaminants
before
we crossed into the ruined suburb.
We
had badges, permits, access
to
a subdivision where boats floated
on
top of fallen fences, each other
and
cars or into back yards.
We’d
have to wash our boots
going
out, after walking around
where
I found his Polaroid picture
stuck
in flood muck on a driveway.
A
boy in white robes,
a
backdrop of red velvet drapes.
A
gold halo
over
his head.
I
almost picked him up,
knowing
I would need
more
hand-washing.
Sanitizing.
In The Laundry Room
Washed hair twisted in a soggy towel,
she mimes in a steamy mirror
an empress, matriarch of mundane,
poised to begin the laundry.
Of keeping-soul-and-body-together chores,
this is her favourite.
In the history of washerwomen’s labour,
hers is simple, efficient. She gathers
discards from baskets, sweat-stained,
garden-grimed, worn-too-many-times
and slopped on fabrics
that cover nakedness,
drape her loved ones’ days.
Sort socks turned turbsy
inside outs and right abouts.
Let rusts dance with navies,
and greens toss with jeans.
Spare green/clean soap on mishaps
that do not wash away,
accept stains, wear and tear.
Let sun and wind blow clean
on the line. Maybe tumble
heavy cotton as flying ghosts.
How yesterdays circle.
Her running togs; his work clothes;
pale-green towels and the sheets of dreams.
Straighten it out in palm pressing and folding,
strong fingers splayed on warm cloth.
We had that day to live.
Tricia Knoll is a Vermont poet whose work appears widely in journals, anthologies and five collections. How I Learned to be White received the 2018 Human Rights Indie Book Award. Her recent chapbook Checkered Mates came out from Kelsay Books in 2021. Let's Hear It for the Horses (third place winner of The Poetry Box 2021 Chapbook Contest) will be out on February 1, 2021. Website: triciaknoll.com
Tricia
Knoll
Living on the unceded land of the Western Abenaki people
Let's Hear It
for the Horses is available at pre-order discount until December 31, 2021.
Checkered Mates from Kelsay Books is now available from Kelsay Books and Amazon.
Poetry collections -
· How I Learned to Be White (available
on Amazon) received
the 2018 Indie Book Award for Motivational Poetry.
· Broadfork Farm – poems about a
small organic farm in Trout Lake, Washington, its people and creatures is
available on Amazon and from The
Poetry Box.
· Ocean's
Laughter, a book of lyric and eco-poetry about
Manzanita, Oregon. Look at Amazon.com or
for Reviews.
· Urban
Wild, a poetry chapbook available from Finishing Line Press that
explores interactions of humans and wildlife in urban
habitat.
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