Nine

[10 May 2019]

She makes her way across the kitchen.
Slow.
Thump. Drag. Breathe. Pause.
Thump. Drag. Breathe. Pause.
Looks to her right.
Sunlight filters through white lace curtains and window-clings of clovers and rabbits and suncatchers of lilies and cardinals and bluebirds and white and green and red dance on the floor and on the white walls and the white kitchen table.
Keeps walking –
Thump. Drag. Breathe. Pause.
Thump. Drag. Breathe. Pause.
– and sits down at the table in front of an almost-finished raspberry jelly doughnut covered in sugar – the scarlet jelly spilling luxuriously out onto the white dinner plate.
Breath. Short. Shallow.
Adjusts her oxygen tube.
Breathes again. Short. Shallow.
Outside the window, a robin sings, building his nest in the plum tree in the backyard; soon, his song is joined by the killdeer from the marsh across the street.
Tries to raise her head.
Can’t.
Breathes again. Short. Shallow.
Classical music plays in the background – Vivaldi or Handel – the strings filling the house as the soundtrack to the smell of potato casserole in the oven and the jello salad on the counter.
Reaches out to grab the doughnut. Misses. Hands are shaking too much.
Breath. Short. Shallow.
Tries again. Grabs it.
Brings the piece up to her mouth and she takes the last bite and laughs, smiling –
a puff of powdered sugar
suspended
in mid-air, raining on her dark blue pants
and the freckles on her left hand.

Other sketches in this series:
One
Seven

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24 thoughts on “Nine

  1. What an interesting poem, Nathan. I like the stark contrast of the mundane struggle set against the lush and vibrant details, and then how you bring them together in the last lines, the woman suddenly becoming part of the picture.

    Like

  2. Really an interesting duo of images. Calm and some struggle. And that ending, a powdered puff of sugar and smile. Just right I think. Nice job. Do keep writing.

    Like

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