Have you submitted your poem on the theme of “pockets” to the Rod Carlos Rodriguez poetry contest? Deadline Aug. 1. Here’s a sample “pocket” poem for your consideration.

solo trip

at the airport
i pat my pocket
before i stand
—arms in the air
in front of the x-ray
machine that will see
through me

i must consent to this
intrusion or i cannot fly

we all know why

~

i think of the first time i flew

—braniff airlines
my plane was blue

on the plane
they gave me
(a fifteen year old
—no one asked)
a sample pack
of winston cigarettes

i was headed to my mother’s cousin’s
place in virginia aside from girl scout
and baptist youth summer camps
this would be my first solo trip

~

i learned — a lot

~

turns out mom’s cousin
wasn’t much for parenting
—didn’t pay a bit of attention
to what we kids were doing

with his younger son
i learned to say kissing cousin

we did some
body surfing:

his hands my breasts
his heat my breath

my body

wet
but not consumed

~

that night body surfing again
this time the sea
having her way with me

my body

slung slammed
against the sand
rolled like a shell
to the shore

dizzy breathless

spent

~

& as for breathlessness:

one lazy afternoon
my mother’s cousin’s wife
—a smoker—taught me to smoke
those winstons i’d taken from the plane

~

after the heat
after the sea
after the smoke

my body

—a tilt-whirl

this trip: a crazy ride
i keep in my pocket
of dreams

(c) d. ellis phelps

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