Copyright © Miriam N. Kotzin, 2004. All Rights Reserved.
TAKING STOCKWhen I have fears
that I may cease to be
in Lord and Taylor's basement,
not by bare bodkin
but by knife of stainless
steel and natural wood handle,
I take stock, stroking the blade,
checking for smoothness,
hefting the knife, lifting
it from its box especially
designed for gifting purposes,
despair at cheap goods so done up.
I see the wrist, not neatly slit,
but meaty as a severed hand,
bone, sinews and cartilage;
imagine bleeding on the fawn
rug near the imported Italian pottery,
and being dragged out of danger
by the sales woman, trying her best
to make me buy a shirt,
assuring me that the price
is right, smiling bully.
I want to scream, scandalously.
Instead I take myself
in hand and up the elevator
to lingerie and loungewear;
I finger the figured silk,
and wonder, keeping silent,
for how long I need to wire
my jaw shut.