11th Annual Juried Reading Finalist

Colleen Abel of Lake Forest, Illinois

Colleen Abel writes, "I was born and raised in the Chicagoland area and have studied literature and writing at numerous institutions throughout the US and England. I received an MFA from the Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College, and am currently pursuing a doctorate at Loyola University Chicago. My work has appeared in journals such as Bluesap Magazine, Branches Quarterly, Bellevue Literary Review and in the anthology Best of Branches 2002. I live in Lake Forest with my husband and our hairless cat."

Housewifery

1.
Mornings are your departure,
some days before dawn. Light lies
across me for hours. At ten, the cat
kisses me awake.

2.
In today's Agatha Christie,
Miss Marple solves a murder
at Gossington Hall. In today's
paper, I do the crossword, read
of three murders, a car wreck,
a bank theft. In today's mail,
four bills and two letters
addressed to you.

3.
Our courtyard is a three-ring circus.
From the kitchen I see
into the dentist's office windows
and watch teeth cleanings while I eat my lunch.
Above that is another housewife
who cleans all day in her nightie.
And behind the restaurant at midday,
the cook comes out and spreads
his flattened cardboard box and, bowing,
prays toward Mecca via me.

4.
I tell my fortune in soapsuds.
In the vestiges of the morning dishes
was the shape of-vaguely-
Australia. I'll take this
as a good omen.

5.
Nights are your breathing,
the measurement of hours in the dense dark.
My wakefulness staves off sunrise.
Tomorrow,
I'll swallow your keys.

© 2005 The Poetry Center of Chicago
All Rights Revert Back to the Author Upon Publication.
No Portion of this poem may be reproduced without the expressed permission of the author.