At the Winn-Dixie
by Asa Drake
The parking lot filled with shoppers chanting
Jesus, I love you, possess us.
Us! The buy-one-get-one
of the soul! Those two + bodies. Those
four + transparent hands. But not my hands.
I touch the edibles. No one notices. I pass
between aisles holding my dinner. I give up estates
(not here) tenanted by cousins who are half cousins
and a national gallery (not here)
with portraits of lolas I do not recognize.
I dissect one portrait and find that an eyebrow
may indeed be my eyebrow, but not the nose,
or the nailclipings sampled from those oiled hands.
I thought we are poor but it was only me
and maybe one other, poor, here
and perfectly hateable. Strangers,
I don’t love you. I blame you for bruising the scallions.
I was shoved away from the romaine. You’re unforgivable.
How long can I make you wait for radicchio?
Maybe you’ll wait forever.
‘At the Winn-Dixie’ has been shortlisted for the 2016 Berfrois Poetry Prize.
About the Author:
Asa Drake’s poems have been published in Cosmonaut Avenue, Sonora Review, Tahoma Literary Review, The Best American Poetry Blog, and elsewhere. Asa has an MFA in poetry from The New School and was a finalist for The Seattle Review‘s 2016 Poetry Chapbook Competition.
