Wednesday, March 05, 2014

NEW! Poem by Kelly Fordon

Kelly Fordon


Well, you are a very small monster. I have to give you that. It’s a big 
world and I wish I had a little rhinestone suitcase. Then I could carry 
you around like a miniature poodle. Of course, you are much smaller 
than that. You could hide behind two books on my shelf, you could 
fox trot with the dust bunny under the couch, quiver in anticipation 
of the broom. There! Over there! You could dart underneath the tea 
set. You could nestle into that score in the wood. Once, long ago, 
when you lived in the crib, I believe I remember you larger. I saw you 
shaking the slats. Escaping must have been scary! That may be when 
you shrank a la Alice, crawled underneath the wall-to-wall carpet. Set 
up camp there. Later, in the hospital, your size saved you, scurrying 
as you did up the IV pole and into your own vein. You made sure the 
infusion took. I will put you in an eggshell, in a locket, in a coin purse, 
under my tongue. Never mind what they say about you. You are not 
alone. Look in the woodpile, on the evergreen leaf, in the finch feeder, 
there are hundreds riding in the paramecium parade. Stick to the glue 
on the envelope and I will lick you. Someone will post you. 

You can pretend that wherever you are, there you aren’t. 

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