Vulnerable sorbet
March 9, 2007
A TTENTION!!! ATTENTION!!!! Spring appears imminent, at least here in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. The snow disappears in the yard—you can almost see it diminish. The chickadees and sparrows and siskins out front seem happy in the warm-sun morning. Well, they always seem happy, but they seem particularly happy this morning.
If you’ve found your way here and you like what you see, read, feel, please do not be afraid to sign up for the weekly Sorbets. You might enjoy getting a little poetic package in the mail each Friday…The sorbets make great gifts too! Just wrap up the e-mail address of someone you love, click on “The SORBETS” above, and then follow directions. (Gift cards available upon request) There’s a team of operators standing by. Hop aboard!!! Below is this week’s sorbet (and yes, there is a waitress at Packrat Louie who does not know how beautiful she was in the grey February light--oh, it could have been the wine--but...):
vulnerable
She sits with her back straight in the chair,
hair pulled back into a strict ponytail
a stack of cloth napkins in her lap
This is a public discipline – this folding napkins
and she is focused on the job her hands perform –
there is efficacy and elegance in her movements –
she is making something new of these soft white blank sheets
Soon, these pages will tell their own unique stories –
they will be written into something new, by strangers,
by the remains of dinners, spilt wine, lipstick.
Outside, it is February cold and dull.
But here, the story is this disciplined waitress
making her roll-ups as this pale-grey, winter light
touches her skin as a lover.
Her beauty is inside the conflict of the banal,
the holiness of ordinary repeated.
She is practiced and precise –
repetitious to the point of vulnerability.
It is as if I am in bed, propped up drinking coffee,
watching her get ready for work, as I do every morning –
and she moves around our small bedroom, naked –
then only slowly, the layers of clothing. She knows
I am watching but this is morning for us. These details
are important only when they are not there anymore.
I am with my glass of red at the bar
side-looking this woman, wishing for a camera
and the skill to capture with a single click,
this simple one-woman play.
I am grateful, grateful, grateful, to Michael Appleby and Corey Hamilton for their kind reviews of Doubting Yourself to the Bone. Both these guys are excellent writers -- and strong supporters of the Raving Poets scene.
namaste