with closed eyes, a bare-shouldered
young Victorian woman
and black gloves
holds the exploding champagne bottle
upside down
the next leg of your journey has been canceled
smells the foaming
am I waking?
I keep forgetting where I’ve been
(where I put this or that)
who said what
even me
on the horn: “the One who shall not be named”
keep trying to admit
where I am
the raised garden beds as love letters
how others perceive that negative side, especially,
certainly, toward me,
an ambulance with its lights flashing
at an intersection beside the Laundromat
is forced by congested traffic
to wait for the light to change
it’s Friday and I’m running late
Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set of Partitas, click here.
Jnana's Red Barn 