May 2024
Bio Note: A Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net-nominee, I am the author of two poetry chapbooks: When and Sweat, Dance, Sing, Cut, published by Finishing Line Press. My fiction and poetry have appeared in several journals and anthologies. Also, I have delivered a TEDx talk on hope, poetry, and music. I enjoy singing, dancing, traveling, reading, and translating.
The Couch with the Clear Plastic Cover
Resisting spills, squeaky and slippery at times,
making the thighs stick—
the one my siblings and I sat on with our nicest clothes
while you shot the photo. The couch you saved several checks for,
the one that made you work overtime—double shifts.
It made you proud of your hard work,
justified you being away from home to give us nice things
we couldn’t ruin or be comfy in.
In the center of the living room, it brought a smile to your face—
strong enough to light up the space, too weak to conceal your fatigue.
That couch: a rotten apple, the knot in my throat,
the stone you rolled up a hill you tried to reach.
That couch with its clear plastic covers, confining you
to sheen and appearance, to not really living—
the one you cherished and protected much more than me.
©2024 Elaine Nadal
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to say what it is about the poem you like. Writing to the author is what builds the community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -JL