Poetry Suite by A.M. O’Malley
“I kept a fork in my
bag. I kept keys between my
fingers.”
Poetry by A.M. O’Malley
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Elopement Suite
1.0
Eloping is to run away with a lover or to run away with no destination in mind. I eloped alone from a mobile home. I eloped from a wood paneled hallway and a back bedroom with a queen waterbed that belied the general tone. I eloped from Mom crying through the paper walls. I eloped from Step-dad with hands. I eloped from hot-dog eating contests. I eloped from belly-flop contests. I eloped from Kraft American cheese slices folded into smaller squares. I eloped from Neapolitan ice cream in boxes.
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1.2
I left behind foil packets of Oriental flavor, my mother’s long hair, cassette tapes of Bonnie Raitt and Vanilla Ice, a pan of boiled eggs crawling with maggots tucked under the porch for forgetting and secret maps drawn inside all of the closets. I left behind crawling into the kitchen cupboards. I left behind being small and I left behind being quiet. I left behind Christmas morning, Easter morning, chocolate sheet cakes and balloons. Happy Birthday Ann.
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1.6
I made cold calls to sell Kirby vacuums. I took drink orders and brought the salads out first. I could hold three pint glasses in one hand. I inspected dry cleaning, scraped at blood and semen with my fingernail. I worked in a shelter, a call center, a library, a bookstore. I sold the environment and human rights. I kept eloping. I covered my arms with long sleeves. I cut my hair, cropped my shirts, shortened my skirts. I fluffed and fought. I kept eloping.
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1.8
Beds were couches, foam mattresses, two inches alongside an AWOL soldier in a twin bed. I loped across fields in bare feet with a stitch in my side. Ate peanut butter and apples for weeks. I made lefse in a borrowed kitchen. The backseats of cars became dangerous. I kept a fork in my bag. I kept keys between my fingers. I kept eloping.
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1.9
I learned to crawl home. There was a chimney fire, an electrical fire. There were fights that no one could have broken up. Black outs, black eyes. Overcast rainstorms, lightening struck. There were broken bones and hangnails. People died, some quickly and some slowly. I went to funerals, weddings. I kept eloping.
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Header image courtesy of Angela Buron. To view a gallery of her Photography, go here.
A.M. O’Malley has recently been published in The Newer York, Unshod Quills, The Nervous Breakdown, Jerkpoet, Poor Claudia, The Burnside Review and The Portland Review. Ms. O’Malley’s first book What to Expect When You’re Expecting Something Else will be published on University of Hell Press in 2015. Ms. O’Malley lives and works in Portland, Oregon where she is the Program Director at the Independent Publishing Resource Center. You can tweet with her; @amomalleytweets