A few weeks ago I gave a weekend workout assignment that I enjoyed so much I haven’t stopped. It was a writing ritual I had created for myself 9 years ago that became the manuscript for my chapbook Her Red Book. Once I got back into the ritual (very basically: writing in 3rd person early in the morning and just before going to bed, and always titling it FIRST with On the Day of, On the Night of, On the Morning of. . . etc) I quickly realized what a gem it was and couldn’t believe it had taken me so many years to try it again.
I’ve wracked up several of them that I’m already editing and have decided to post a few, even though they still feel a bit precious.
On the Day of the Bicycle Mammogram
She rides on an uneven day west
a straight shot that curves but
does not stray In the waiting room
the receptionist speaks loud English
to the Chinese lady nods in another cyclist
eyes the father holding hands
with his woman-girl
They are all beyond guessing ages
She makes polite naked conversation
in the machine her breasts
vised in like fruit to juice
nothing to it she thinks
walking over the fading footprints
of visitors to the objectionably yellow building
She admires rooftops
the array of shingles ceramic and wood
She cycles past the cars and buses
daring them to make her feel
mortal
It’s just a test this
is only a test not the last
not the truth not the point
When she reaches her door
the winds have died down
the sunset has been postponed and
all she wants
is to finish her book
the one she is trapped inside
the one she has climbed into
volunteering herself
for duty
So many of us can relate to this one, Danika: I even emailed the link to a friend!