Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Birth of a poem

Driving through small town America on a rainy Tuesday morning, dressed in black tights and a checkered top coat on the way to work, stopping first at the post office to collect a pile of bills. Slurping coffee from the steel mug. It's an environmentally friendly, legal drug habit. The coffee, that is. The post office smells like the paper mill. Everything smells like the paper mill. But at the post office it's somehow charming because the post office is in a quaint old historic building with marble floors and gleaming wood and rows of brass post office boxes. There's so much promise behind those little brass keyholed doors, but it's all political ads and bills these days, though the new National Geographic was waiting yesterday and that got me all excited. It came with a map. One of those beautiful, detailed nature maps documenting animal migrations all over the world. I LOVE maps.....maps that I can hold in my hands. As I turned the corner toward the post office, a haggard looking crow flapped low across the street, gripping something in his dirty talons.

Crow disguised as raven
grips bloody bits

We are like that, aren't we? Disguised. There I sat, in my "working girl" disguise, on my way to do things the right way, make the world go round, take care of business. I'd rather be......

The crow bird kept on flying. I kept thinking about it, the talons, the glossy wings, the little eyes, as NPR played in the background, the work day swelling before me like the puddles on the street.

Glassy eyed, shreiking
"Imposter, Imposter."

The office was cold all day and I finally found warmth in the sauna at the gym, across the street. Naked, alone, warm, breathing the sweet smell of cedar. I thought about being in the woods, in an outdoor sauna, the sound of rain falling on the little roof, dipping water from an oak bucket. Steam rising.

Red-streaked talons grip fur, bone
or is that all in my imagination?

Then it was back to the beige-walled cubicle. The one I moved to from the office with the door because I need to be able to see the sky. But after I switched, I realized that I am too small to be able to see over the half-wall that separates me from the big windows looking out. I have to stand to see the street trees and a little slice of sky, but at least there is some natural light.

Shiny things warp time
Flap, flap, flap.


BadAssKona said...

Wherever you are, there is natural light

Erobintica said...

wonderfully meditative piece of writing - thanks Gina.

Craig Sorensen said...

Very nice. Thank you for taking me along.

Gina Marie said...

Good morning! More coffee! Here we go!

Thanks for stopping by.....Hey, I can smell a weekend approaching!