Unpacking by J.L. Lapinel


by J.L. Lapinel

If I walk deliberately
into the mild uncharted wind
of a left behind moment
then you may say that I am too sentimental
I search for myself in those moments
so forgive my wandering
through monochrome memories
unvouched for by those
who have forgotten me

there is a barbed wire fence and
a tricycle left rusted
near the stone wall
with steps leading down
to an empty stall where a
thick-necked horse lived
he died
and all else dissipated
into the faded Kodachrome
of a celluloid past
of you and the rest
(with me in parentheses)

You did always say kids were portable
so here I am
in my Royal Stewart soft-sided suitcase
with one leg in
and one out
The zipper is broken
but I can still feel
that I am
gripping the small handle


J.L. writes much of her poetry about adolescence, her early twenties, and post-parenthood. She is focused on the strange ingredients of her amalgamated upbringing and how they impact the present. With some distance she is now able to explore the landscape and harvest new understanding. Recently inspired by CAConrad, J.L. has incorporated ritual into her process and doing so has allowed for unencumbered and healing poetry.


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