A Poem for Peggy J. Kooyman
Here is a poem I wrote in 2006 and edited a bit today.
A Poem for Peggy J. Kooyman
Your faded ghost teeters on the edge of recognition
Swarming in two feet circles within the white suitcase
that once belonged to you.
With the departure of three crinkled dollars
to the droop cheeked woman behind the thrift store counter
it now rests on the top shelf of my closet
with your name, written with slanted grace, still in the name plate
Someday, I may fill the suitcase with jeans, t-shirts, and a toothbrush
grab the handle with a sweaty palm
and travel the world
For now, your ghost bounces against the suitcase walls
whispering your story with that hoarse sputter
that all ghosts recall their life
You bought the suitcase in your late thirties
no longer tantalized by the promises of American housewifery
the stumbling jumble of flesh and complaints slumped in your living room
perfumed with booze and dazed eyed apathy
was not worth the stoves and the ironing boards
the stuffing recipes and achingly awkward chit chats
with pink cloaked neighbors and their lonely grins
So you left the sleeping mass behind
boarded the night train and twisted through country side
toward some towering city whose skies lingered
with a sweet scent of freedom your body never expected to inhale
your mind clouded with dreams
you fell asleep to the gentle moan of creaking tracks
Or maybe, you bought the suitcase for an adventure in crime
fed it stolen 100 dollar bills
handfuls of glistening jewels
until its belly was brimming and gurgling with delight
the bank customers huddled on the ground
their pupils dilating with that terror filled quiver
that only a few witness in another
you whispered “everything will be all right”
before dashing into the anonymity
of congested and cluttered city streets
leaving the smooth headed bank teller with hands in the air
mystified by the swiftness of your intrusion
suitcase in hand you boarded a plane
Your lungs relaxed as the planes wings touched the stirring air
And whistled through the blankets of orange and yellow
Or maybe, you bought the suitcase because someday
you would fill it with your skirts, blouses, and a tooth brush
grab the handle with your sweaty palm
and travel the world
A Poem for Peggy J. Kooyman
Your faded ghost teeters on the edge of recognition
Swarming in two feet circles within the white suitcase
that once belonged to you.
With the departure of three crinkled dollars
to the droop cheeked woman behind the thrift store counter
it now rests on the top shelf of my closet
with your name, written with slanted grace, still in the name plate
Someday, I may fill the suitcase with jeans, t-shirts, and a toothbrush
grab the handle with a sweaty palm
and travel the world
For now, your ghost bounces against the suitcase walls
whispering your story with that hoarse sputter
that all ghosts recall their life
You bought the suitcase in your late thirties
no longer tantalized by the promises of American housewifery
the stumbling jumble of flesh and complaints slumped in your living room
perfumed with booze and dazed eyed apathy
was not worth the stoves and the ironing boards
the stuffing recipes and achingly awkward chit chats
with pink cloaked neighbors and their lonely grins
So you left the sleeping mass behind
boarded the night train and twisted through country side
toward some towering city whose skies lingered
with a sweet scent of freedom your body never expected to inhale
your mind clouded with dreams
you fell asleep to the gentle moan of creaking tracks
Or maybe, you bought the suitcase for an adventure in crime
fed it stolen 100 dollar bills
handfuls of glistening jewels
until its belly was brimming and gurgling with delight
the bank customers huddled on the ground
their pupils dilating with that terror filled quiver
that only a few witness in another
you whispered “everything will be all right”
before dashing into the anonymity
of congested and cluttered city streets
leaving the smooth headed bank teller with hands in the air
mystified by the swiftness of your intrusion
suitcase in hand you boarded a plane
Your lungs relaxed as the planes wings touched the stirring air
And whistled through the blankets of orange and yellow
Or maybe, you bought the suitcase because someday
you would fill it with your skirts, blouses, and a tooth brush
grab the handle with your sweaty palm
and travel the world