Shipping Charges
–
For two-day poem delivery
the cost goes up over ten lines
A poem overnight
is even more expensive
The UPS man is a limerick
Load
In Quarantine
–
When we took walks
all we did was look at our phones.
Trapped inside, there was infinite time
to hurl irritations.
I believed takeout
was no more dangerous
than grocery shopping.
She wanted everything delivered.
When she left for good
I realized what we had mostly done
before the virus
was look at our phones.
I knew it was for the best
just like wearing a mask in public
but it was so easy to come in contact with germs,
to give yourself a fever.
Quarantine Playthings
Please Come Back
–
The mammogram wagon rolls into your office parking lot and takes up ten spaces. Every
year a fancier version, bought with the donations garnered at silent auction. Inside, it’s just like
an RV – bench seat of Herculon fabric, oak and brass trim, the way you might suddenly be on the
road to Montana. You forever inhale the fumes of new carpet.
The specialist has shiny cheeks and smells of newly folded linens. Her fingers prepare
your breast to flatten in the crosshairs. Her touch, the glass plate, the air-conditioning whistling
through cleavage – it’s all cold. She doesn’t stop you from viewing the x-ray on her thin monitor.
The film is a Rorschach test – butterfly, two faces, a train wreck?
A week later a pink envelope arrives saying your breasts are clear and beautiful, like a
compliment from a lover. We are pleased to tell you and there are no signs in a cursive font. But
this year they call instead. When you hear the nurse’s voice you think of how they’re just saving
postage. A shape, a shadow, don’t worry.
Lifespan Achieved
Lifespan Achieved
Martha Clarkson’s writing and photography can be found in monkeybicycle, F-Stop, Clackamas Literary Review, Seattle Review, Portland Review, Feminine Rising, and Nimrod. She has two notable short stories in Best American Short Stories. www.marthaclarkson.com