Found in the Closet

"Out"

I found you
tucked between
black pinstripe
and woolen

plaid. One strap
already slipped
from the white
plastic hanger

as if you knew
I would reach
through any minute
now, shake red

silk free of darkness,
slide you over my
shoulders, let your
sweet cherry bow rest

beneath my breast.
I remember now, you
used to belong to
petite Asian friend

of my sister. Did she
have a baby doll face
and what was the cut
of her hair? What would

she think if she saw
you now, making silver
headed church women
whisper and stare?

Why yes, this coming week we are digging in our closets for whatever poems me might find there. Please post your offerings by Thursday, August 27, for links and possible feature at High Calling Blogs. As usual, leave your link here in the comment box so I can easily find you.

Now, about my own closet poem. I wrote it because I was thinking how surprising it is to have something within and not know it, or not remember. That's how I feel about the art I'm finding inside. Where in the world did it come from? It surprises and delights me, like the red dress in my closet (which, by the way, I did wear to church on Sunday and received many compliments).

Mary Claire in soft pastel, art and photo by L.L. Barkat.

POETRY FRIDAY:
High Calling Blogs That Girl (Not the Other One)
Jim’s Concrete Patches
Kelly’s Grandpa’s Deck
Fred’s That Girl
Cindy’s Living Beyond My Wasteland and Wishes on Fire
Monica’s Homesick
Claire’s Really?
A Simple Country Girl’s Some Porches Connect
Lorrie’s Sword
Mom2Six’s Swing
Claire’s I Am a Rag Doll
Liz’s Rooms Outdoors
LL’s When Morning Comes, Today, and Girl (scroll down to comment 33 or so)
Linda’s Porch
Lance’s Porch Weather
Marcus’s musings Think Like a Poet and a Scientist
Glynn’s Found by the Pool
Jane’s Conversion
Yvette's Dancer

Speaking as a Teacup

Tomorrow I'll talk about 'voice' in poetry at High Calling Blogs and invite us to try out 'mask' for next week's poetry prompt; that just means taking on the voice of someone or something other than yourself. Think of it as a small exercise in fiction writing, taking on a character...

'Wayfarer'

I remember traveling
in his suitcase, white athletic
socks stuffed in my belly to keep
me from breaking, rocking 'midst
clouds, and your hand's first
touch bringing me to birth
on that wooden table,
and your lips.


Teacup photo by L.L. Barkat.

BOOK GIVEAWAY:
Laura Boggess is giving away a brand new copy of the Norton Anthology's The Making of a Poem. Run on over.

POETRY FRIDAY:
High Calling Blogs RAP: Coming Home to Voice
Sarah's And I tiptoe...
Yvette’s Daughters
Marcus’s Mrs. Moss Dances
Monica’s Drumbeats Feel Like Home
Cindy’s Put Me in, Coach
Sonia’s Moon Talk
Jim’s Silent and Afraid
Laure's Loud with Silence
Claire's Mosaic
GoodWord's Form Follows Function