Park and Possibility
You say a rusted shopping cart can’t be an address, but I
say, Yes. Meshed wire will suffice, laid on its side
with plastic sheets for eaves: my dark
blanket (army surplus) smells
of cat and leaves
hair on my clothes
when I lie flat—
You say a plastic shopping bag can’t be a closet, but my
other hat, my Sunday shoes, my baseball bat
for alley-nights, my yellow pills
my pint of distilled
bitterness all fit inside
a single sack—
and, when I need to get away
from my parked address
then I guess my plastic closet
will be dark and maybe safe.
That’s where I’ll go.
~*~
Jude Marr teaches, and writes poetry, as protest. Jude is currently a PhD candidate at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, and also poetry editor for r.kv.r.y. For links to more work, or to buy her chapbook, Breakfast for the Birds, please go to http://judemarr.com. You can also find Jude on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.
Featured image by Kyle Johnson
