a poem a day for a year #70

by Amy Turn Sharp


there is no one running after me with a camera
capturing frame after frame of the small light in my eye
the glint of my chrome heart
no one is taking all of this down
this perfectly boring exquisite daily life of a woman in Ohio
so I must
like how sometimes you hear a whisper in your ear
and it must be from god
or the devil
or an ancient ancestor
who never did follow her path

 

my kid learned to snap his fingers this week
the world has broken open
we walk towards the post office
I carry him like a pack mule
and share the ipod ear buds
as you do
when you love someone

and we snap our fingers like soulmates
to the old man in our ears
and we record the soundtrack of our life