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i step through the not-quite

February 9, 2012

an argument persists all day. i tell him to get out of my apartment. mostly, it all feels terrible, but it is good to have a chance to yell.


after we read books, i sing “puff the magic dragon” to my youngest before bed. i sound like my mother. i could sing it a thousand times and never tire.


the photo in this blog post is a hinge in my apartment. the doors are solid wood. the building is old, but i am relatively new to it. it’s only beginning to tell me who it is. like these lovely hinges, for example: i’ve been here almost seven months, and i just noticed them a few days ago.

i live in a historic district, and the park it borders used to be a cemetery. i think often about the bodies there, moved or not, and promise myself i’ll do some research. but not before letting my mind run with it a bit. the facts of a story aren’t always what matters. it’s how it feels, how you can play with it on your tongue.


i say, “i’m tired of taking the high road and i’m not going to do it anymore.”

he says, “then why should anyone else?”

because it’s somebody else’s turn. because i’ve been standing in the middle of the road alone and no one has come to meet me. because it’s dangerous to stand in the road. because a girl can only take so much.




he criticizes me for how i behaved after my mom died. first, it was i didn’t get back into taking care of the house quickly enough. today, it was i didn’t talk to him for two years. trust this: we won’t be having a conversation long enough or involved enough for him to come up with a third example.

  1. February 10, 2012 11:44 am

    I don’t often use the phrase “chauvinist dumpkiss” (actually, I don’t think I’ve ever used it), but those two reactions warrant it, I think, in this case…

    But it’s good that you’re finding things (hinges; Puff; expressing the negative feelings through verse that rages in its beauty) to keep it all at bay. You can’t build a wall of numbness and expect to survive; the wall has to be full of good things.

  2. February 10, 2012 3:55 pm

    beautiful strong poem, adore the worm that’s an apron string.

    yeah. no need to hear a third. eff ‘im. xoxoxo

  3. February 11, 2012 5:39 am

    Hey Carolee,

    I just got gifted a chance to pass on the Versatile Blogger Award……. it’s now yours!

    I’m not really sure how my one vote is worth a whole award, but hey, it’s a chance to give you a plug on my blog:

    Congrats 🙂

    And thanks for continuing to share your writing (and non-writing) journey!

  4. February 12, 2012 1:04 pm

    It’s nice to read some good poetry from a fellow Albany poet. And ‘february, without snow’ is the poem I wish I wrote.

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