Wild Goose Poetry Review, No 33, Fall 2017
It was like I spilled deep red spaghetti
on my best white dress,
all down the front
in the middle of people who never knew me,
women and men who by simple human existence
definitely privileged to judge me.
I am a spectacle of careless inconsideration,
deplored, lamented, unforgiven.
I quietly step back, back,
small imperceptible movements.
I fade into invisibility,
oblivion, no words to explain.
Author’s Comment: I wrote this poem while trying to sort out the abuse of my childhood and the feelings I carry with me. As in the confusion of childhood, the images speak more loudly than words alone.
Bio: Mary Ricketson, inspired by nature, is published in Wild Goose Poetry, Future Cycle Press, Journal of Kentucky Studies, Lights in the Mountains, Echoes Across the Blue Ridge, her books, I Hear the River Call My Name, and Hanging Dog Creek, and a new collection, Shade andShelter, forthcoming in 2018 from Kelsay Books
She won first place in 2011 Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest 75th anniversary national poetry contest. She is a mental health Counselor and blueberry farmer.