Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Bedside Manners

Bedside Manners

The goal is not to horrify you.
But the goal is not to not horrify you.

When you wake up, how much
of the previous day have you forgotten,

how much from all your years
sticks. If we can remember something,

we can keep it, that is what we
think. The baking aisle in the supermarket,

between the boxes of cake mix
and bagged chocolate chips and shakers

of rainbow sprinkles. Breathe
that in, cardboard and powdery sweetness.

A bowl and wooden spoon rise
within you, then quickly recede, Nessie

and then flat lake water. I dare
you, try to keep what the sugar summoned.

I don’t mean to be mean. Try,
how about what the word evergreen does

to you, how sure you are that
beneath its satin there is a lesson for you.

Think of who you can mean,
how it made you shiver when the new boy

called you her, see how this
happens to us both, beside one another.


  1. this one made me all emotional... the bowl and spoon most definitely rose within me. I have baking/childhood nostalgia.


  2. Hits home. Pondering memory lately.

  3. Me? The new boy was talking about me? He must be VERY new!

  4. Oh, so resonant at this particular bend in the road!

  5. Wow...when I was referred to as her I was trying way back when to identify how I felt...wow, this is packed with memories...thank you Hannah

  6. Memories are so malleable, and yet, emotion remains, even if the details shift and waver. I love how this poem uses the sense of sight and smell to evoke the memories. And yes, you have horrified me (just a little). So much is lost, I know. "If we can remember something, we can keep it..."

  7. this is, i believe, important, hannah. how i grieve (but not really, not fully but only in my recognition of these small death) as divine moments of joy pass and i can only allow them to pass. they can't be held. but then the transience is what makes them divine.



The Storialist. All rights reserved. © Maira Gall.