James Howe First Prize (2013)

Love Poem

Katherine Wooler

I tried to find us a love poem.
I looked in the grocery store behind the Kraft Dinner
and down the aisles we wander weekly,聽
debating breads and popcorn. I tried聽
to extract one from the car,
where we belt out Nicki Minaj and apologize聽
for fights with leg squeezes over the gear-shift.
I thought I could get something out of the piano聽
or the waffle maker,聽
but all I got were lines of dust and crumbs鈥攔eminders聽
of bad housekeeping. I even went back to that parking lot
in Armdale, searching among discarded cigarettes聽
for an epiphany I know I once had, but I was distracted by crows聽
pilfering garbage cans and the crackle of plastic in the wind. I looked,聽
devotedly, for our love poem.
I stared at my toes and listened聽
to infomercials, pulled apart orange segments. I almost had it聽
as I was falling asleep鈥攕omething about the way you squeeze
the last bit of toothpaste out for me鈥攂ut suddenly I ended up聽
in a dimly lit basement, cracking billiard balls and circling tables,聽
until you whispered me awake, tracing my nose with a fingertip in the dark.
I tried to find us a love poem,
but all I found were the white acid marks
of an orange on my palm, making city grids from my life lines鈥�
a little life for us drawn in citrus chalk, with radio pop, deli counters,
and microscopic tubes of toothpaste.