Safety Depositi Box -Meg Ronan
March 14, 2013, 7:48 am
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , ,

Two keys and a signature.  Why even keep something that unkeepable? Own sense of ownership, a void, the blouse a stop motion.  My breasts the floor.  Skin, flaking, flocked.  Not Christmas but a mangled sense of light, the speed a calculation kept in a safety deposit box.

Not Christmas but a night I slept on the blue couch, the multicolored lights a hazy clock.  Skin, flaking, flocked.

Not Christmas Eve not a season quite but a Christmas canvas, a visual-hypnotic amalgamation that triggers a sense of memory of familiar soup, warm, when there is no soup.  Lacing up old winter boots.

My mother ladled soup once, more than once, salt and celery.  Go out to the garden. Grown and growing.  Frost and cream cheese frosting.  Skin, flaking, flocked.

Soup when there is no soup.  My therapist, a cinematographer, sends messages of violence and cranberries via subtly lit sleep.  An abuse, a generalization of soups, a violation of the faults, the fumbling thumbed motor skills of memory.  A Platonic concept of soup locked in a safety deposit box.  Lacing up old winter boots.

A vague container, held away.  A toddler with safety scissors, a play pen, hacking up a cook book, a recipe, the calculation, piled paper in a safety deposit box.  An outside party to a private detonation. I gear up for the process of retrieval, but my Sunday dress is stuck at the cleaner’s.  Vacuum up the dead skin dust, go out to the garden, guests might come for Christmas morning.  Can’t get my blouse back on.  A weed rooted in a mass of rocks.  A meal kept in a safety deposit box.

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