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Svetlana Jovanovic: NEXT TIME AROUND (BOXES)

Accented pink hill tops
hair thin pulled to the back
strong determined simple
small softly round fiesty.....

                        Knowing erratic
                        luring wholesome smells
                        emanating from the
                        unmatched cookware......

               Shiny hardened cracked
               stiff and used
               from the manual drudge
her hands pile her
world, everyday
into a BOX

Neatly brushing
away the dust
crisp smacking clean
carefully washing ironing folding
piling away into a box
for tommorrow
and tommorrow’s tommorrow
no more todays

Laying down finally
on a bumby old matte
next to the box
and the boxes box
so on and on,
and up, and over
and sideways
                   No where to look
                   boxes, only boxes
                   fear and hope
                   wrapped neatly
                   for next time around
                   where are you going
                   with those.................................Boxes
                                      where are you going
                                      with those...?
Counting packages
like troubles never
undone
images of another time
lie there stacked
upon another
so stubbornly
held on to
      needing so much
                 to hang on......

Looking at me
looking at me
look look look looking at me
looking at me looking at me
look look look looking at me
as if an intruder
talking fast
voice thinning to a
shriek
pumping a frieght
into me

My thighs bleed
from forcing a
listen
exploding, anyway
because I can
powerless like before
her shrieks
have become mine
only more
            escalating shrieks
            that climb
                  ...madness

the thump to my knees
louder, not a child’s
you didn’t mean that       come on say it say it
you didn’t mean that       come on say it say it
you didn’t mean that       come on sayit sayit sayit sayit say it sayit say it say it

sa sa sa sa say it.......say it sa sa sa sa say it......sasasasassasayit say it say it
You didn’t mean that come on say it say it say it say it say it say it say it...

a slipped heel
reels me back
crashing into the boxes
falling on top of me
         a pinada of wasted trinkets....
gifts clothes utensils
books earmuffs hairdryers
shoes boots deodorant
gifts clothes utensils
books earmuffs hairdryers
shoes boots deodorant
dishes perfume dolls
dolls,
records hats crayons
lipsticks costumes photos of me
                  unleased...
                        and finally.... free
And finally free.....and finally free and finally free finally free....
Each article
trembling with life
waiting to be touched
held and......
not knowing
that in an instant
they would be
angrily packed away
into a box....again
Into a sarcophagus
for next around.

So what is freedom, then,
but an incidental spurt
with a consequential condition
Inanimate and animate
potentials wasted waiting
for eternity to begin.......