ISSUE 3 · FALL 2009
Copyright © 2009 Rebecca James | Weekends REBECCA JAMES
I travel by rain to morning: dew, puddle, glinting, rippling.
I travel into the silver droplet dropping before his camera lens. I travel into ping and plunk and gurgle— gutter, bucket, drain. I travel by rain.
In the forgotten picnic plastic cup, in the canoe of tulip petal. Petals he grew, bulbs he planted. I travel to his fingerprints in the soil on bulb, to the roots’ memory of his palm, planting.
I travel by rain to night: the bucket at the foot of our bed (five nights, my bed) collecting musty attic drips. Down the bathroom sink drain where he washes away our sweat. Down the gutter echoing his car engine on the street, echoing thunder. |
Rebecca James holds an MFA in creative writing from Queens University. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in several journals, including Iodine Poetry Journal and Margie.