Return to Top of Page
Menu
  • Close
  • About Us
  • Contributors
  • Donate
  • Opportunities
  • Staff
  • Submissions
  • 20 Years
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Instagram
  • Search Website
Literary Mama
  • Current Issue
  • Past Issues
  • Departments
  • Blog
  • Newsletter

Poetry | January 2009

Childhood Curiosity

By Joan Rene Goldberg

My mother demonstrated how to flirt
with the vacuum cleaner salesman

I studied an ironed shirt
and swell fitted pants

When he spoke I followed the movement
Of his buttoned neck between his collar bones

He unwound the cord found an outlet
Suction, we laughed one time

The salesman’s house
her parked car

My little finger pressed the bell
and had to open the door

The musculature of a man’s arms
can bar the unforeseen

The mold of his wife’s shoes
imprinted on a floor mat

This impression of an object
was what I could have focused on

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Share This Page

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Email
  • Copy Link

Joan Rene Goldberg

Learn More

Subscribe to Our Newsletter

Don't miss out on Literary Mama news and updates

[mc4wp_form id="24407"]
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Instagram
  • Instagram
  • RSS

© 2023 Literary Mama | Search Site | About Us | Staff | Submissions | Privacy Policy