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Locked in a drug store. At closing time.
My mother on the eve of her eightieth birthday.
Smiles for the stranger. On the sidewalk who
takes her picture. Soon after she blows out.
All her candles.
My teenage daughter backs out. Our car nearly hits
a signpost. In the woman’s ward where she works.
A grown man. Argues, yells too close.
To the new-born baby.
A ballerina. This morning’s tour guide.
Shows how from each tall blue lamp on the campus.
A girl can aim. For the next. Then points
to the building named for. The man. Who
lept back into the Titanic.
The house cat escapes. Runs into the woods.
Where fireflies blink Look here, Look here.
We flick on flashlights. There. There.
Is July.
by Therese L. Broderick
(An artist’s statement about this poem appears as the first comment.)

About ThereseLBroderick

Independent community poet living in Albany, New York USA.

One response »

  1. poetryaboutart

    ARTIST’S STATEMENT about this poem
    Fact & Fiction ~
    This poem relates some strange occurrences in my life during a few days in June & July 2009. My mother’s birthday, the car mishap, the hospital incident,the tour of Harvard College, and the cat escape are autobiographically factual.
    Sound & Sense ~
    I model these fragmented sentences after poems in “The Waker’s Corridor” by Jonathan Thirkield. This version of the poem benefited from feedback by readers MM, JH, JG, and RL.


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