One Prose Poem by Laura Stamps

 

 

Bullet 

 

She reaches into the box. And selects another postcard. “Dear Elaine,” she writes. “It’s January. And I rarely see the sun anymore. But when it appears. Sunshine. A sunny day. Like today. When I was driving home from work. I see people out walking. In this glorious sun. Men power-walking. Teenage girls. Gossiping, giggling. Families trying to keep up with each other. Women walking with strollers. And this. Just now. This. As I was driving home. This man. Wearing a frizzy wig. Or that’s what it looked like. A wig. Lime green. With orange bangs. I kid you not. In a muscle shirt. He was. Pumping hand weights. I think. No. Actually. Prancing with weights. He was. But that hair. Geez. What if it wasn’t a wig? I mean. Maybe it’s his hair. Green. Like the Jell-O we had to eat as kids. My mother’s favourite. The only kind she would buy. Green Jell-O. A fate worse than death. It was. And orange marmalade. That too. Her favourite. Not strawberry. Not grape. Nothing tasty like that. No. Just orange marmalade. Her favourite jelly. Again. A fate worse than death. Truly. It was. And yet, and yet. I guess. I should count my blessings. Right? Like the Benedictine monks. Living a life of gratitude. Grateful for everything. Okay. I can do that. I can be grateful. For my hair. That it didn’t turn green. From a childhood diet. Of lime green Jell-O. And my bangs. Thankful. That they’re not orange. Like marmalade. So, so grateful. I am. To have dodged that family bullet. Me. Gratitude. Yeah. Living the life. I am.” 

Laura Stamps loves to play with words in her fiction and prose poetry. Author of 49 novels, novellas, short story collections, and poetry books. Forthcoming: “The Good Dog” (Prolific Pulse Press 2023) and “Addicted to Dog Magazines” (Impspired, 2023). Winner of the Muses Prize. Recipient of a Pulitzer Prize nomination and 7 Pushcart Prize nominations.