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Dorianne Laux
When Can We Leave? When can we leave? The car is packed, the cooler wedged between the sleeping bags and life rings, newspapers and maps. If they could just stop arguing, take back the thing she said that made him mad. Can we leave now? The car is packed, my five sisters standing like potted plants on the back porch, holding hands, but now he's saying crap and she's kicking off her shoes saying If that's what you want, that's what you'll get, a fat wife with flat tits and someone always sucking, bats in my belfry, varicose veins, the kids sleeping on mats. When can we leave? The car is packed, and now the baby's gone to the bath room in her pants, the dog has the cat by the neck and is dragging her through a slat in the broken fence. He's taken off his baseball cap, his hair all matted down in back. He says, I'm leaving. Unpack the car. We all lie down and take a nap. Dorianne Laux is the author of three collections of poetry from BOA Editions: Awake (1990), What We Carry (1994), and Smoke . She is also coauthor, with Kim Addonizio, of The Poet's Companion: A Guide to the Pleasure of Writing Poetry (W. W. Norton, 1997). She is an associate professor in the University of Oregon's Program in Creative Writing. |
