Patchwork Prose and Verse
Today’s host for the second day of the July Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com is Jennifer Jowett of Michigan, who inspires us to write poems of loss. You can read Jennifer’s entire prompt here.
Get Lost
I keep showing them to the exit
but they refuse to leave, to make
themselves scarce once and for all
they’re like Velcro leeches
sacked-out partiers
who won’t get lost
they stick with
me, these
pounds
On any given morning, my family members in different group chats begin swapping random photos on a theme one of us starts. Saturday’s theme was our dogs. Dad sent a video of his schnoodle, Kona, getting her 5:30 a.m. treat from a friend at Parker’s gas station on St. Simons Island on their early morning routine walk. My brother sent not a photo of his dog, Kasa, but of the veterinary table where she was getting her shots (she’s a gorgeous Brittany, and I’d show her off every chance I got if I were him). I looked around and caught a glimpse of our aging rescue schnauzer, Fitz, sitting contemplatively in the brown velour chair that has become his window gazing chair.
This chair, one of a pair, matches nothing else in our house, so we have had it listed on Marketplace since bringing it home from one of Dad’s storage facilities to sell. But Fitz loves it so much that we may just keep the velour pair for our three schnoodle boys to call their own. I mean, next to a Velvet Elvis, what could be more of a conversation piece in a home filled with a blend of modern, farmhouse, and antique furnishings? What I noticed about the chair, though, was the variegated colors and the way the light played with the fibers and Fitz’s coloring. Immediately, I envisioned an old painter with an easel, painting a still life of a beloved family dog.
It was my picture to share in the group text.
Dad sent it to a painter friend named Carol to see if it could become an affordable masterpiece. She replied that it was compelling, and that she was glad to receive the photo – – that it will become a master watercolor.
I urged them to note the crossed front legs, showing a recent shave for a dental cleaning, the basking in sheer comfort, the deep reflective thought and philosophical consideration, the way the light plays with the wisdom of old age.
I hadn’t woken on Saturday thinking that Fitz, in a moment of silent reflection, would become the subject of a still life.
But here we are, rocking the reflective moments of life.
note the front legs crossed on the armchair
philosophical reflection
the way the light plays with age
salt and pepper mixed hues
he needs a top hat
and an old pipe
and a lap
to call
home
As the day wore on, I took a few more photos to continue the theme of the day, but the brown velour backdrop on the first pose was the best Fitz shot I was able to capture.
‘twas my last summer day off contract
and what did I do with my time?
basked in air conditioning
turned the thermostat low
gathered up a book
dogs in my lap
read the day
away,
napped
donut dogs
breakfast on
Sunday treats
trio of
Schnoodle boys
all lined up
awaiting
their next bites
patiently
*Tricube poetry consists of 3 stanzas with 3 lines of 3 syllables each, on any topic. As I prepare to return to school this year, I look forward to working with small groups of writers. These short forms help introduce various aspects of poetry such as line breaks, syllables, and structure. Having a bank of poems I’ve written helps me to introduce these to students as we write together.
we’re cleaning out a lifetime of stuff
making room for new adventures
goodbye to all the clutter
farewell to odds and ends
we’re clearing the air
ready for new
memories ~
coming
soon!
it became a game of cat and mouse
now who’s chasing, now who’s running?
who’s including, who’s snubbing?
who’s manipulating,
orchestrating now?
nobody knows
all sight lost,
reason
gone
the fallout started over
the limit 1 toilet paper
when one refused
hospice in favor of
going it alone
but didn’t count the
costs of Covid
when one heard another
found 6 rolls and ordered
him to bring it ~
he tersely replied
he’d already delivered all 6 mega rolls
and ($#) it’s gone to
crap ever since
in my quasi sleep mode
where he kisses me goodbye
before leaving for work
he whispered
be careful when you open the door
there’s a mouse trying to get in
because that’s what happens on a farm
when even the field mouse have had it
with the scorching heat of summer
which prompted deep sleep dreams
of a mouse with a tiny suitcase
because his car ran out of gas
selling encyclopedias
running from a snake
proclaiming his testimony
asking for a glass of water
hoping to find a new home
sometimes I suppress memory
sorrow, disgust, guilt, misgivings
I should probably take more
action on like those
twin mattresses we delivered
to that young single mother of
five dirty children in a photo we saw
in all the mess
and a filthy home last week,
mattresses practically new
we no longer needed, so I listed them
on Facebook Marketplace for cheap
the young mother didn’t have a person
or a way to get them so we delivered
them, left them on the
wheelchair ramp to her mobile home
sat in silence for a few moments staring
at the dump of the place, the broken
chairs and table, the dilapidated pet
cage (minus a pet, thank God),
plastic bags of strewn clothing,
home tattoo kit in a bag with needles,
smashed toys, headless dolls, trash
shattered bottles, crushed cans,
upturned cooler, bricks, dishes, wet papers,
random things everywhere destroyed
by rain and weather and wondered
(tried not to judge but it was impossible)
then a man came out with a bike helmet
and we asked if he was the boyfriend
meeting us to receive the beds
and in an offended tone told us no way
he was only there to fix a leak
with force like we’d slapped him
so we left them there in all the filth
right by a trash heap and wondered
whether to call DFACS or mind our
own business (remembering: I’m mandated
even outside of my own county, I’m
mandated as a human being for
reporting deplorable conditions)
I know they’re inanimate objects
my husband turned to me
confessing a hard truth
as we backed out of the parking space
but I almost feel sorry for the mattresses
I swallowed hard and admitted:
I keep telling myself that there
are five children who need a place
to sleep and these may be the
only clean beds they’ll ever see
(and maybe the only beds at all)
sobered by the experience
of this hardship case
rattled to the core, speechless,
we drove 23 miles back to clean
trying to forget all we’d seen
wondering if we owned enough soap
but still asking: did we do the right thing?
should we return with groceries,
does she have services in place?
because tears do not cure hunger
tears do not clothe children
no, crying doesn’t change a thing
Note: we only saw photographs, not the actual children.
repositioning
makes all the sleep difference
in a tiny space
We’re teardrop camper fans who downsized from a 30 foot Keystone Outback to a 21 foot Little Guy Max to scale back and simplify our camping experiences. As primarily weekend campers, we don’t like to make camping a production with every gizmo and gadget. We like to spend time off the grid, using what we have to make do – – and we certainly don’t like to cook and wash a lot of dishes while we’re busy sitting around doing nothing.
Our favorite way to travel is to stumble across a sudden cancelled reservation on a campground and decide spur-of-the-moment to throw together a couple of pairs of shorts and t-shirts and whatever food happens to be in the kitchen and hook up the camper and go. Unplanned. Last minute. Spontaneously seeking an adventure that was not going to happen ten minutes ago. Not a five-star hotel with a restaurant and pool, not a cruise cabin with a balcony or a VRBO with a hot tub.
From the moment we brought her home, we loved this sweet little tiny space. It may look small, but it has all we need, including a wet bath (combination shower/toilet room) and a stargazer window. It has seven windows, a Fantastic fan, a clothes closet and pantry, and a tv in the front for watching church or for when it rains and in back for movies before bed.
But what we didn’t love was the bed. Even though the previous owners had upgraded the original mattress, we still woke up with hip and backaches and never could get quite comfortable enough for a full night’s rest. One of us (me) had to climb over the other one to get up and go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and two adults and three dogs in a queen size bed was not working.
That’s when we decided to modify the bed. We designed a plan to extend the sleeping space into the belly of the camper to allow more room. Here’s what we did:
First, we measured the height we’d need to extend the bed out. We ordered four 17-inch step stools for support on four corners of a one-inch Lagun table we already had and placed the table hardware-side-down in the middle of the stools.
Next, we measured the cushion width we’d need and saw that the cushions from the front table would work if doubled-up, so we added two on the bottom and two more on top of those cushions to level the cushion surface flush with the mattress and foam topper.
Since there appear to be no T-shaped sheets anywhere, we added a separate fitted sheet over the cushions and each took one sheet and one blanket to cover our space as we repositioned, eliminating any cover thieves who may be lurking with an eye to steal the other’s covers in the dead of night.
We think we’ve found the solution that will allow us to keep this camper for a longer time before we try another camper. We’re keeping careful notes of what we like and don’t like, but for now we think we’ve adapted a winner. And the only purchase we had to make, the step stools, double as chair-side coffee tables and foot props for when we’re in the camp chairs outside doing absolutely nothing.
Common Threads 