plumes unmatted in the market:
jenny's home for milk and seated
when she asks for burlap placemats later
and she's given something less grand
I wonder how she'll be upset
I wonder if she's past that

carting stew (or its ingredients)
around, through kids and boxes,
in the aisles, with knees bent and plans
for microwaving corn

the store's fluorescents buzzing
and ornery perfumes in check-out
melda wonders beef or barley and makes
mental notes on jams

the burlap was replaced with linen
jenny knows the linen's smoother
and she knows it makes her itch less
and she knows she's past that

softens the upset, rolls her elbows on the wood
she blinks and knows she blinks
the cold aisle, I think, would be appropriate,
or maybe braised chicken with its bumps
could help the mounting melting, scratching

Written in 2008.