Goldie
/Don't worry, this isn't going to become the story poem blog. I'm on a roll, though, so here's the second in my series. Story poems don't have to be only about familiar folktales. For me, this was a natural jumping-off point.
Goldie
She saw them go out,
Bumbling, mumbling, stumbling.
Took a gamble.
What it would be like
To live another life?
Not tall, blonde and angry,
But short, dark and─
Hungry.
For porridge, clawmarks and all
For marriage and children or none.
Honey, sugar, sweetie.
Satisfied.
Dawdle into the den
Crochet hook near the ladderback,
Fishbones under the rocker,
Jug of mead by the recliner.
Relaxed.
Clamber up scarred stairs,
Drifts of fur, scuffed treads
Past the clawfoot.
To the bedrooms.
Mothballs and cedar.
Futon, feather, trundle,
Bundle
of
dreams…
Exit, pursued by a bear.
©Priscilla Howe 2014
Comments? Which familiar stories would you like to see a poem about?