This poem made into Magnets and Ladders www.magnetsandladders.org a small online journal and won an honorable mention.
By Ann Chiappetta
little metal Alloy trinkets
Strung together on rings, tied
To thongs or clipped to lanyards
Brass or silver toned
taste like cold blood
When clamped between lips and teeth
While Struggling to open the door
After Marathon shopping sprees
One might surmise keys are replaceable — after all
What is a locksmith for?
hand slips into pocket
touching the stories
Represented in physical sentiment’s
A pewter policeman’s hat, a plastic starfish
A silver dog bone
If someone else found these keys, would they know? Would
They understand the life
The unrevealed memories
Of a charm for a father
Or a mother, gone
and the bone
Signifying the bond and love
for a guide dog?
inserted into slots
And forever remembered with each turn
The opening of a door
into a heart.
Not sure if you all know what I look like, so without too much information, I am a shortish, rubenesque female with brown hair and hazel eyes. I am fat. Now that we are past the necessaries, I am also what they call “peasant legged”, meaning, I have stout legs and large calves. This is, from what I have learned, a body type like big hips or narrow shoulders. If I could change anything, I’d change my legs from the knees down. Where is this going, one might ask? Follow me to Macy’s where I search for the ever elusive wide calf boots…
I’ve tried on three pairs of these boot styles only to be disappointed that the zipper stops just below my ginormous calf muscle. Maybe I should paint myself green and grunt like the Hulk. Hey, wasn’t there a female hulk?
I had childhood flash backs to when Frye boots were in the height of fashion and I finally saved up the money to buy them, only to be brought to tears when I couldn’t get them past my calves. I was 14, and just dying for a pair. So, there I was, 36 years later, hearing the sales woman say, “Nope, they don’t fit,” and taking them off. So, I placated myself by buying another pair of boots with a shorter shaft. They are very cute and will look terrific with skirts and trousers, but in my mind, they aren’t the leather riding boots I’ve always wanted. I am now thinking about having a pair custom made. I know I am not, as my husband says, “Imelda DeMarco’s” but, at this point in my life, if I can’t have the boots of my dreams, then what do I have to look forward to? The retorics of this statement don’t resonate with me, either. I guess all the toe raises and miles on the bike at the gym will add to my dilemma. I just must accept that I will always be a low boot kind of gal.