The First of the Month
In the Post Office I see her.
Thats her pooch outside, yapping,
carefully tethered by red leather leash
to wrought iron fence.
Shes pressing a stamp to a magic carpet.
Pressing white into pink of nail.
She haloes the stamp
with an earnest smudge.
Lips form words again and again:
she checks the address; she wont do this wrong.
She mails it to adults
whom shes never met,
addressees who couldnt ever understand.
It glides down the shoot.
She glides with it.
There will be enough time
before no reply comes
The postal clerk, wry, a benign drug dealer,
through unshaven cheeks
as she buys more stamps.
I see her in stacks of grade school libraries
fallen where she opened
books she has no business with.
women pained with ennui
one must never name
languish on the covers.
At a family reunion
of hearty good people
who could teach tool and die,
some smart aleck thing
pops out her mouth.
Food spews, laughs yip; there are gasps,
and everyone wonders.
sun and white birches,
hikes all alone.
I could throttle her.
Why cant she join up with the ball team,
suck up to teachers,
snag a boy get knocked up go on welfare?
If it werent for her,
Id have a job
admin assistant, maybe,
and would know where the rent check
will come from tomorrow.
© 2002 Danusha Veronica Goska
Danusha V. Goska, PhD, is an experienced teacher, an award-winning writer, and a published scholar. She can be reached at dgoska[at]yahoo[dot]com. Her web page is http://www.codypublishing.com/goska/goska.html
For more of her work in TheScreamOnline, visit the Talent Index.