A BALL OF RUBBER BANDS
Someone has given me
a ball of colorful rubber bands
for my office.
redyelloworangegreen--
a hard round ball of rubber bands.
Back when I had a use
for rubber bands, I would
leave them on the door knob
in case I needed one. Now all I
can think to do is toss
the bright ball through a window
on bad days, heave it toward
the sky on good ones--
a spinning globe of
redyelloworangegreen.
It calls to mind an ex-boyfriend,
who wore a flesh colored band
around his wrist.
He said it was to remind him
of something important,
but would never tell me
what it was.
Now I pull a bright red band
from the knotted ball
and put it on my wrist. Maybe
it will come to me--
the secret I never knew
in a red rubber band
uncomfortably tight
on my wrist bone.
a ball of colorful rubber bands
for my office.
redyelloworangegreen--
a hard round ball of rubber bands.
Back when I had a use
for rubber bands, I would
leave them on the door knob
in case I needed one. Now all I
can think to do is toss
the bright ball through a window
on bad days, heave it toward
the sky on good ones--
a spinning globe of
redyelloworangegreen.
It calls to mind an ex-boyfriend,
who wore a flesh colored band
around his wrist.
He said it was to remind him
of something important,
but would never tell me
what it was.
Now I pull a bright red band
from the knotted ball
and put it on my wrist. Maybe
it will come to me--
the secret I never knew
in a red rubber band
uncomfortably tight
on my wrist bone.
posted by Patry Francis at
10:28 AM
4 Comments:
"the one secret I never knew
in a red rubber band
uncomfortably tight
on my wrist bone."
I think of uncomfortable reminders, how they force me to think of something/someone, but also how I smile at the memory.
By
mermaid, at 4:25 PM
Your last sentence really is elastic, pushing and pulling around mixed feelings, the known and the unknown, comforts and discomforts. I like that.
By
MB, at 5:37 PM
Mermaid & Moose: You both keyed into the same sentence, which is really the direction where the poem took me, if that makes any sense. I guess what I'm trying to say, which I'm sure you know, is that a poem is like a search and you don't know exactly what you're hunting for till you find it.
Moose: I've been experimenting with writing a poem a day like you and Sara are doing. Writing a poem when you think you don't have one to give. The results (for me, though clearly not for you) seem to be a lighter, more whimsical style.
By
Patry Francis, at 7:49 AM
secrets and memories - even when you take off the band you can see the mark
By
floots, at 10:34 PM
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