Dogged dog-furred raggedy mother
of two seeking self who spring-cleans
despite limited means, a self with
sudden wealth and no hair in the
drain, a self who can listen to the
train at night and not take flight.
Self, come soon.
Tired and mired.
Searching for bravado, lost mementos,
better shoes, flattering clothes. Will accept
past life with some strife if happiness
quotient is higher. New self must
appreciate rings of fire and high-wire
acts. Facts only, please; no fiction
or overpriced diction.
Fair skin unmarred,
one-a-day vitamins, chocolate-mint
temperament selves especially
encouraged to apply. Must get high
on party invites, darning children’s
socks and tights, replacing old locks,
setting curls and clocks.
Little girls—
not for the faint of heart. Self should
be fluent in Mary Poppins, Maria Von
Trapp at the Kwik-Mart. Yes, it’s an art,
but surely you are out there.
Self, hurry, please. Time cries
when it’s not having fun and there is
simply too much dust, too much sun,
too much rust, too little money, too
little much and too much little.
Self, come soon. Have prepared a room;
can offer board, bored. You provide
the pinafore and button-top boots,
and the smile. This smile has too many
miles on it, will not pass inspection or
muster. Don’t be flustered. Come as
you are so I may leave as I am not.
They tell me you are the self for the job, you
out there with your feet on the glass
coffee table, leaving no trace, no smudged
heelprint behind. You go unseen. Not even
an empty potato chip bag, a cheap ragazine.
Ready, willing and able. Sleeves rolled, secrets
untold. Self, come soon, come soon.
Stipend, salary, commission, celery, frillery,
frippery. Slippery floors and splintered doors.
Come soon. The cool moon is waiting for me.
A red herring. A smoking loon. You’ll get your
bearings, you will. The note, the key—
the kitchen counter. You will see my face
in the dirty dishes but it will mean nothing,
no need to flinch. Blink, and I will wink
back, from the bowl of a spoon. We will
leave it at that. Self, come soon.
{ 20 comments… read them below or add one }
Beautiful, Jennifer. You have such a way with words. I hope you find your Self and that she is right where you want to be.
T.
Wow. This is beautiful. Thank you for the gift of this poem. And for sharing yourself.
Yes! I love that you are sticking in your poetry groove. I am going to go back to this and read it many times in the next week.
I have been trying to figure out what chocolate-mint temperament (hey that rhymes!) means…
This Self you are describing sounds a bit like a Stepford wife…I hope that is not what are you looking for. But I do hope things get easier for you. xo Jane
I’ve been lurking on your blog for a long time. I can’t even remember how I first found you.
I just wanted to let you know that I am not a poetry fan. It usually does nothing for me.
Yet your words always strike me. You have such a beautiful style of writing. Your poetry paints such a vivid image. I know it’s your pain that is coming out, but it is so touching. I hope you find it healing as well.
this is really great amiga, thanks for putting this out there and up here
She does it again.
Wow. I love that. Really good poetry is really hard to write. You are very talented. I have even more respect for you as a writer now.
I think great poetry allows the reader to make a connection with it as their own- yours does thsat.
I have a chocolate-mint temperament…but none of the other qualities you mention.
When you find self…let me know. I’ve been searching for her for years (winks). Wonderfully enlightening dear friend. (Hugs)Indigo
All of your poetry has me thinking of Frederick the field mouse (Leo Leonini). Perhaps your words will keep you and the rest of us field mice warm until better times return.
This one’s uncategorizable, indeed. Nothing on Craigslist for that. You knew to send it out to the universe. The English teacher appreciates your cliche twists and sound-play. Remember that what one seeks is seeking the seeker as well.
Amazing!
Fabulous!
Just beautiful!
Thank you.
I think your self is exactly where she should be.
Wow, Jenn. You never cease to amaze me.
I hope you find your Self soon.
love this. beautiful!
“Too little much, and too much little.”
I know those sentiments. I am ready for that to change myself. You are right to seek yourself before there are more wine glasses in the sink…
It sounds as though you might be finding you again.
It was a wonderful process to pay attention to when I, too, started to see me again–even if only a wink in a spoon. I am still on that path–likely never ending. But, a good reorientation to me. Sometimes when I looked in a mirror I needed a sticker that says “Hello! My name is_______________”
Our kids make it easier to get up in the morning, but easier, too, to forget about ME. A difficult place to be when looking for yourself.
Keep your eyes on the horizon.
Do you know how many of your poems I save to read again and again via my Bloglines? Of course, you don’t, but it now numbers four. I adore this. I believe it ranks as my favorite. It’s beautiful.
Come as you are so I may leave as I am not.
Oh. Just…oh.
I miss you, missed you…. am missing you?
Nice to see you in here, there…everywhere.
With respect for your…seeing
Roo
Wow, your way with words dazzles me.
How did I miss this? Now found, gratefully. Beautiful, beautiful, lilting and spinning. What a ride, love. Quite the ride.
Todah rabah, for the polished pieces of yourself you make for us here. Todah.