19 March 2007 | Vol. 7, No. 1
Postscript
Our house steams switched-on like rain.
Neighbors place umbrellas over children,
send them into the street to watch god clean
what fire trucks and strained hoses can't.
Barefoot under a borrowed poncho, we touch
(misused synapse to misused synapse)
but wonder where are the fucking marshmallows?
Smoke like kindergarten chalkboards
hung between these children's faces,
It's true: walk or kneel was not the right question.
Standing after before the mirror
(feeling domiciled separate from thought):
tongue against teeth, afterthought against apology:
I am / am not my gender, I will / will not react.
About the author:
Jennifer Merrifield's poetry appears in recent or future issues of journals such as Natural Bridge, LIT, and Fourteen Hills, and is anthologized in White Ink and Wild Sweet Notes II: More West Virginia Poetry. An MFA candidate at Virginia Commonwealth University, she is the recipient of the 2006 Columbia Poetry Prize.
For further reading:
See the complete list of work by Jennifer Merrifield at 42opus. Browse the contents of 42opus Vol. 7, No. 1, where "Postscript" ran on March 19, 2007. List other work with these same labels: poetry, editors' select.
