SPRINGBOARDS: ANOTHER ARS POETICA
Elisavietta Ritchie
Something someone would throw away.
An unspoked umbrella, ruptured tire,
a rag shredded beyond absorbing more.
A dimestore dress bought for a doll
or for disguise in an improper moment.
It's the momentness of the thing
and all its life before you
picked it up or out, cast off
but retrieved despite face values.
Then, the story inside, and how --
in an unintended hour caught
in a summer thunderstorm
in a fast food shop, radio blaring
the odor of popcorn and fries --
how to rewrite it.
