Her Kansas

It's time for another guest poem. This poem of Jessica's slipped into my mind a few days ago, and she said I could post it--so here it is:

Her Kansas

                “It was as though for a time I didn’t exist.”
                        -    Mary Henry, Carnival of Souls

Her shopping silhouette hangs
lingerie beside mannequin-
nested aisles. Leaning
wrists wreathe plastic
beads, flimsy necks coax
spruced-up tresses. She wonders
will real shoulders ever feel
such dresses? Suspended,

is it a skirt,
she tries, or some slip
with distance, making her sick
from these drifts,
unnoticed? An overcoat clings
purse to wrist: is it another
dimension, doors,
external, or is she
the roar of trees that contains her,
as any other spirit
of place (department store/
five and dime) or time
that does not survive
eye or face?


Copyright © by Jessica Schneider

Some good music that provides sound links throughout the poem, as well as some phrasing/images that linger in their peculiarity, like the 'mannequin-nested aisles' and the 'roar of trees,' or wondering if 'real shoulders will ever feel such dresses.' If you've seen Carnival of Souls, you will recognize certain elements of the poem and the general mood it evokes. And if you haven't seen Carnival of Souls, why not check it out on Youtube? That's what I did when I couldn't be arsed to walk to the rental store one day last winter.