Naked

PhotoFunia-2076271
Winter seemed reluctant to release its hold
Over my chronic age-old, old age concerns
And the goddamned snow wouldn’t stop falling
In the middle of March cutting through naked
Tree branches buried in the backyard ravine
But I made it to retirement breaking down
Beds and screwing them back together
Seventy was a good age, I thought, to pack it all up
Until my bones groaned and I fantasized
About that next round of experimental drugs
To be extended to me in a flimsy paper cup
So I lurched forward to take hold of it–
The grave my wife purchased last year
And I sat wondering how I arrived here
Stuck between boxes marked ‘utensils’
Useless…the new television set
I can’t turn on or off. Oh hell,
It’s already April–the spring
Of somebody else’s life (the best I can retell)
And this doesn’t feel like birth, but dying
In this white chair the movers left here by the
Floor-to-ceiling windows not made to open
Shut tight while the three-car garage bulges
With past mistakes, broken things, and T-Shirts
Unworn since the late great summer of 1981

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33 thoughts on “Naked

  1. There are so many layers and emotions in this. I keep reading and re-reading and coming back to those unworn t-shirts. Don’t we all carry around things we don’t need/ will never use again? Going to read it again now.

    1. Thanks, Peggy. I like it when the spoken word translates well to the written word. Unfortunately, I am familiar with the voice of depression. I write what I know, as is the cliche.

  2. Fascinating little piece. Was it a conscious decision to only have one full stop? A couple of times I think I may have read sentences as one when they were probably two.

    1. Hi Paul. Yes…there’s only one period. I wanted to take a full breath before exhaling, “Oh, hell.” The poem also capitalizes the first word in every line when it would normally not be done to keep it uniform. I love the freedom poetry gives me…breaking the rules! 😝

  3. I like the tone of this. The accumulation of stuff has such a mental impact. I swear, after helping sort through my grandparents’ house, and seeing my parents’ garage (they can finally squeeze a car in there after fifteen years of shuffling ‘stuff’) it makes me ready to get rid of it all 🙂

    1. I’ve never been a pack rat, and hang on to things loosely…but I do feel one can be too sparse in facilitating a home if there are no reminders of a life lived. Hanging pictures on the wall is something I should do more of.

  4. I enjoyed the stream of consciousness feel to this piece. And I really liked this part in particular: “Floor-to-ceiling windows not made to open
    Shut tight while the three-car garage bulges
    With past mistakes, broken things, and T-Shirts
    Unworn since the late great summer of 1981”

  5. Amazing poem Angie!I specially loved,”the spring
    Of somebody else’s life” and ,”the three-car garage bulges
    With past mistakes, broken things, and T-Shirts
    Unworn ..” 🙂

  6. Good take on the prompt and quite a commentary on accumulated “stuff”. We are so lucky in our place and time to have too much, so many don’t and didn’t. Cheerio, Jane

  7. Ooh, this is fabulous! Love the voice and the pace. Love the “Oh hell” and what comes after it in particular. Awesome work with the prompts! 🙂

  8. Letting go a bit and slowing down can be as difficult as toddlerhood. I think it’s not so much slowing down, but the thought of what comes after that presents the challenge. This is a wonderful poem, beautifully written.

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