Life Without GPS

    by Kelly Coveny

I have not purchased the three birdhouses

I promised myself, not the potting soil, nor peonies.

Instead, I take my mom for chemotherapy, hold her hand

while they stab the needle into her port, watch her face wince, her leg kick,

take our dog Wally to have his anal sacks emptied,

go to read “Bugs and Butterflies” to Finny’s

two’s class whose teacher has

forgotten so isn’t there.

    Why must we break,

    before we break through…

    not know for how long

    we will fall apart…

I think people are happier

in Italy.  They don’t check

their Blackberries at funerals

or eat tissuey tomatoes

or overthink chocolate

or make a mental pro/con list

over whether to have sex

in an empty field

on an abandoned road

in the middle of nowhere

without GPS.

    Why do we have to break,

    before the break-through

    not know for how long

    we will fall apart

    or what in the end

    will come…

roma tomato with sea salt

tuber-rose scented wrists

tuuuuhwitt, tuuuuuhwittt, tuhhhhhwittttttt

when will it come

and what will it look like

and will we be ready to break, away.

© 2010 Kelly Coveny

Published poet/novelist, commissioned screenwriter, produced lyricist/singer and advertising writer/creative director last employed at Saatchi & Saatchi, Kelly Coveny lives in Connecticut with her husband, two boys, and dogs.  Her work can be viewed at her company, PancakeFaktory.com.