If not restoring the cat\u2019s order,<\/p>\n
if not coffee for two,<\/p>\n
who am I,<\/p>\n
what do I desire?<\/p>\n
Walking alone on the beach,<\/p>\n
Claire wants to etymologize\u2014<\/p>\n
but she\u2019s got mere seconds<\/p>\n
to coin the languor<\/p>\n
of minnows rising in swells<\/p>\n
before people, cars, and umbrellas.<\/p>\n
She doesn\u2019t want to die yet.<\/p>\n
How does one decide?<\/p>\n
Claire would like to, but cannot<\/p>\n
own a dog, nor any large contraption<\/p>\n
that would save her from the sun.<\/p>\n
O Claire,<\/p>\n
a fish too, aims for food\u2014<\/p>\n
Swims to it!
\n <\/p>\n
\nFor twenty-five years there had been clothes to find,
\nshoes to tie, homework\u2014a ferris wheel
\nof cars bombing Claire\u2019s mind,
\nalone in the shower or driving the car\u2014<\/p>\n
Mom. Mom. Mom.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe time, it flits away,\u201d said the elders,
\nblessing her children in stores\u2014
\nAnd Claire did understand.<\/p>\n
She was there, had fattened them
\nwith her milk, was there for
\nthe first steps, the fevers, the fractures,
\ncontests and matches, her armadillo
\nwagon scouring the county
\nfor the thousand details, her mind
\ninside the smudged lines of every
\ngood matriarchal story she heard.
\nShe was there,<\/p>\n
secretly howling\u2014O how is it done.
\nAnd savored some. Yet her body
\nshe ignored. Had to\u2014
\nAnd then she was ill, and stayed, ill.
\nStayed upstairs, to heal.<\/p>\n
Then one day, after the last child\u2019s morning clatter, If not restoring the cat\u2019s order, if not coffee for two, who am I, what do I desire? Walking alone on the beach, Claire wants to etymologize\u2014 but she\u2019s got mere seconds to coin the languor of minnows rising in swells before people, cars, and umbrellas. She doesn\u2019t want to die yet. How does one [&hellip<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":11882,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[379],"class_list":["post-11828","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poetry","tag-line-drawing-of-cat-by-ogwfp"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11828","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=11828"}],"version-history":[{"count":11,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11828\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":11883,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11828\/revisions\/11883"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/11882"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=11828"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=11828"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=11828"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nthe back door slammed. Under her quilt,
\nClaire\u2019s blood began to itch.
\nShe swallowed her life
\nas the sun cast its avenue
\non the yellow floor\u2014then slipped from bed,
\nand crawled, her palms like savants,
\ngroping down the hall toward
\na fizzing light. There, she clambered
\nup the sink cabinet, the way
\nof a spider, so to implore,
\nin the bifurcated mirror, her face.
\n
\nCarla Carson is the author of the chapbook LOVE AND ORANGES<\/em>, Finishing Line Press, 2015. Some of her poems have been published by Prelude, PANK, Adelaide Literary Magazine, The Mom Egg, Columbia Review,<\/em> and more. She is a member of the faculty at the Writing Institute at Sarah Lawrence College where she teaches reading and writing poetry. As well, she is the secretary of the board of directors for Four Way Books, Tribeca, NY.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"