Folks, I Submitted a Poem!

I teach the Young Women at church, and I'll be talking to them about vocations on Sunday. There are about 50 girls who attend, and this time, I'll be teaching all of them. So I have thought a lot about my dreams, my vocation, my contingency plan if Doug couldn't work, or died. Is it wrong to point out that it would be better for me financially if Doug died than if he just couldn't work? Just pointing it out. I have a plan for both scenarios, and of course, I'd prefer to have an able-bodied/minded Doug. Love the man.

Anyway, I have always dreamed of being a writer--specifically speaking to young adolescent women. And I haven't submitted any of my work since the Valentine's Day story contest. So I submitted work today! I know better than to submit work without getting feedback first, but I did it anyway, because it's really hard not to send it when I'm in the zone. Here is the poem, revised today:

Distance in Fergus Falls, Minnesota

I.

In a banana-yellow bathing suit-- with ruffles--

I flip open the screen door

sprint down the lawn

past the sand and pails

to our dock—

plunk myself in Pebble Lake.

Become a mermaid.

Platinum blonde Scandinavians, bikini-clad,

bake their bodies silently around me, the sun polka-dotting their oiled skin.

Mulletted men come back from fishing at noon,

proudly show off five-pounders,

let me hold bass with both hands for Polaroids,

tickle my cheeks with their mustache kisses.

But the lake won't stay still.

Grandpa moves the dock closer to the cabin each year

as the lake takes

the sand

the yard

our home.

There’s talk of building a new cabin

a hundred yards from where our old one was,

but that’s a hundred yards away.

If I wanted the distance

I’d look at old photos.

II.

My 5-year-old scoops his favorite painter from the blue pail,

holds it high so

I can see it swim in the sky

here, a hundred yards away.