October 29, 2010

Yvonne Postelle

HOW I CAME TO OWN A FUR-LINED COAT THOUGH I LIVE IN CALIFORNIA AND BELONG TO THE SIERRA CLUB

In Filene’s Basement in Boston
I explore the aisles. So many bargains.
None I need.         None that I can
justify carrying home.

Mild regret begets claustrophobia.
I scan shopper-clogged aisles
for a quick escape,         duck into
a corner with room to breathe.

From there I clearly see
an exit route.         Appeased, I pause.
Turn to gaze around. Evening jackets,
racks of beaded gowns

equal to a big night on the town.
A kid in Grandma’s attic, I reach out
and stroke a cream and honey colored coat.
Or shall I say the coat         caresses me?

Its rabbit lining’s soft against my cheek.
Warm within its comforting embrace
I think of waltzing with Lothario.
And that is all I have to say.         Except.

That’s the way temptation gets its way:
the innocent trying-on that’s just for fun;
a long appraising look in a flattering glass;
a smile, a pirouette,         the crime is done.

from Rattle #24, Winter 2005

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Yvonne Postelle: “Why do I write poetry? For the same reason a mockingbird sings or an infant plays with its fingers and toes. Because I love the rhythms of the human voice, the unexpected relationships that can sneak into a line binding words together in a pleasurable and memorable coupling. To learn what I believe. And, yes, because I can.” (website)