Markie Babbott

Other than misting and providing food and water, leave the crab alone and
in the dark. The peace and quiet may help him or her feel secure enough to
try on some more shells.

-Instruction Manual

Apparently, I have "Advice Please" painted on my forehead.
Today, the bank teller told me that sonic dermabrasion helps erase brow lines;
my kid's teacher said going gluten-free doubled her energy;
the cop gave me a verbal warning, saying that it was his wife's time too.

It's raining advice and I don't know the question.
Which question would land on my tongue if I opened my mouth to the rain?
I no longer have my friend every month—
the gut tug, the earth scent, palette of red.

I stare at our hermit crab tank
Bonnie & Clyde rest in the coconut hideaway,
Boutros Boutros-Ghali claws at the mermaid statue,
Cosmos sits smack dab in the drinking pool next to the fallen plastic palm.

I am still heartbroken about Bessie, who despite round-the-clock misting,
shriveled shell-less, naked. She had shed the cozy Pearled Turbo,
but refused the Jolly Roger or the Babylone with the two inch opening.
I called her beautiful, I called her wise, I called her sweetie.

Markie Babbott's poems have appeared or are forthcoming in the Aurorean, CAIRN, Calyx:A Journal of Art and Literature By Women, literary mama, Mannequin Envy, Perigee: Publication for the Arts, Women.Period, (Spinsters Ink, 2008), The Women's Times: Pioneer Valley and Tupelo Press Poetry Project (12/09). Her chapbook, Sus Scrofa, won the 2008 Poets Corner Press. She lives and works in western Massachusetts.

Current | Archives    Submit | Masthead    Links | Donate   Contact | Sundress