Ode to a Woman Who is Not Where You Think She Should Be
They asked where to find you,
said you had all but disappeared.
They asked me for your likeness
and I told them —
At the bottom of the laundry hamper
where a little ink stain sits along the stitches of the liner.
There, and in the back of the produce drawer,
clinging to dust and leaked fluid
of broccoli past the sell-by.
Sometimes in the cupholder of an SUV, driver’s side
where a french fry hardens and rattles.
They said to me — where has she gone?
their eyes chilly, searching, crushing,
and I, in your defense,
present these images, this holy havoc.
Here she is, I tell them.
I offer fallen leaves tracked into the mudroom,
gentle mold sprouting in the tub corner,
a chip in the kitchen cabinet paint job,
Here is your evidence, gentlemen —
She lives.
Madeleine is a graduate student of Marriage and Family Therapy in Atlanta, Georgia. She has a black cat, writes a lot of poetry, and has a show-tune for absolutely every occasion. Read more from her word-loving brain here.
