Lynn Glicklich Cohen

CLAIRVOYANCE

 

As a child I hid behind evergreen

shrubs to spy through night-lit windows

on widowed Mrs. Post alone

with her tv, wine, toy poodle

eager to see her die of despair.

 

In the store my mother filled our cart

while I hung back and squeezed candy

through plastic bags, pressing thumbs

into mallow cups and snickers

as if to chew them with my nails.

 

My brother built barricades from chairs

I had to crawl through to my bedroom

where I could close the door, where I could

scramble the universe to center myself

as a black hole, dangerous and unknowable.

 

Magical thinking got me through

childhood and followed me

into my future where now I recognize

another version of the old woman

at home with her tv, wine, dog, her freedom.