I wrote this around October (?) but found it today and decided to publish... it's a little prosey and about an uncomfortable encounter.
In the Ks
my breath stopped
and I knew I was so near there's a copy I've seen it.
Fingertips grip the shelf,
nails nervously flick
dust
off paperbacks.
I am too distracted to sneeze.
The novel slides out...
This is not my Unbearable Lightness, it couldn't be here,
but the words are the same.
Lonely words.
It isn't mine but it's part of me.
Shakily restored,
I trust the metal ladder and indulge in one
just one
chapter, where I left off.
It feels fulfilling but-
Now my volume is crammed back on the shelf with the Ks.
I say something irrelevantly to Dad and
dollars are traded for poetry and
I escape to hot Jackson Street,
thoroughly confused.
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2 comments:
Ooh, I really like this. A lot. "With the Ks" is such a . . . reader's line, you know? It's something only a reader would say or think or write down, and I like the vibe it sets for the rest of your story. "too distracted to sneeze" is cool, too. This poem is kind of meant to hear read aloud, I think, because of all the cool things you do with rhyme and rhythm and alliteration that really can't be appreciated fully if you read it in your head.
Props, Jane :D
Lovely opening line, after you understand what's going on.
The third line feels like there needs to be some sort of transition, maybe a dash or something, between "near" and "there's".
"Dust" looks lonely, but maybe that's blogger not letting you indent it properly?
The last four lines feel like a pretty rapid shift, maybe because "I say something irrelevantly to Dad and" doesn't visually lead me to the store counter...I guess it would be nice to see the transition from the Ks to the street become a bit smoother. I do like "I escape to hot Jackson Street, / thoroughly confused" quite a bit, though, so don't change that.
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