It's possible his wife is watching
from a window while
we load up the van
with what we can fit
in and still leave room for the cats.
The mother 5 kittens plus Sissy
who scratches his arms bloody
as he tries to stuff her in a crate
for the 8 hour ride. I'm sitting
in the drivers seat wondering
how this will all work out. Everyone believes
I'm on a business trip. Sissy
is hissing and spitting
and his streaked forearms scream
a love story stigmata.
Giving up on containment he opens
the car door and throws Sissy
inside. I roll up the windows
leaving a four inch opening. We can't fit
his tools or the T.V. It's May but warm
so we leave most of his winter clothes.
We don't take the old computer
but I stash all his diskettes in my pocket.
He's making the last rounds in the house –
inside the running car in the back driveway
the kittens are crying
we're all restless
and sweating.
I name the kitten with the mustache
Salvador Dali when suddenly Sissy
collapses all her bones and escapes
through the impossible
window. We can't muster up any panic
caught in this slippery passage see
we're all just about to be born.
Author notes
First draft and still editing (wanted to get one of the last four spots).
Contest inspiration:
The Bulbs
for Lisa Denton
I wait in the U-Haul with the kids
while she, in my sister’s peasant skirt
and her brother’s parka, fishes
the beds with a busted trowel,
then her bare hands thrusting, pulling
dark knots from the cold ground.
Behind her, the torched house
where her mother drank herself
to death, where we lived
until it burned. The insurance
bastards, still investigating,
won’t even pay for a motel.
I honk—Come on! She stands
in the stiff wind, which sends
the charred stink of the place
over the town. She walks the lawn
looking—not quite down—almost
inside herself for where she planted.
The kids have mourned their
stuffed animals, didn’t even cry
when the neighbors looted, but
no way will she leave these bulbs,
which have made flowers in two houses,
on both sides of the Hudson.
Finally she comes to the truck,
the hem of her skirt
in her hand, cradling them.
She blinks back tears, climbs
in, slams the door, says
Get this goddamn thing moving.
Douglas Goetsch
A contest entry
- A Moment Like This by Rowan.
800 points, ended December 17, 2008, 13 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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drivers seat - driver's seat as the seat is belonging to the driver, i am surprised to find that there lol as i know you from time back.
anyays, cats - yes, i like cats, and poems on cats or featuring cats. i must be a 'wat i mean cat in a hat 
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hey there ian.
oh don't be surprised by anything like that here. i'm notoriously poor with apostrophes.
thanks for the read and pointing that error out.
you still painting and such?
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Palpable tension. And we're left holding our breath for news of the move/metamorphasis, very cool.
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sounds like moving day hell... lol. I could feel the heat and smell the cats.
Powerful ending as well, and I like the edit; effective. Thanks so much for entering my contest, this just keeps getting harder to judge.
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and mona disappears into the traffic like a butterfly gum wrapper
I love it. Love how that see slides into different slots into the last passage, seemlessly and correctly and suggestively. It could and does go a number of effective places.
caught in this slippery passage see
we're all about to be born
i dont think you need the "just" or the period there before the "see"
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oh yes. you are right.
is the poem posted? the butterfly gum wrapper one? is it?
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I liked it better with the "see" separated by space there. I couldn't get that space in my comment. I put it there, but it disappeared on the posting.
http://allpoetry.com/poem/2002436
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stigmata and salvador dali. rumbling portents like roiling storm clouds fortelling a climactic, lasting change of fortune. there is a lot of 'running' and 'escaping' here and yet, no real movement. prebirth. pangs. the final contractions before you are spit out of this 'slippery passage' into a new life. i can hear the crying, too. -silverfish
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