box of jars

Only You poems

heidi shira tannenbaum
ElectroShock Nightgown
White and gauzy like a current
enfolding a brain. Only You sat practicing
for a scene where she would turn her head
slowly, and brush away a piece a hair.
The hospital would have some sunlight
coming through in a happy afterglow
of polite hand-pressing, a
how-do-you-do Mademoiselle.
In these kinds of situations
it is always better to be well-dressed
(think Katherine Hepburn playing a paralyzed heiress
but shifting her legs underneath the blanket.)

Her neighbor was newly returned from Rikers
and smelled like orange blossom after a humid rain. 
She wore silver bangles
with closed lotus buds on the ends. 
They spoke solely in Morse code,
which they could both partially decipher. 
When she fell asleep, Only You dreamt
she was the best-dressed criminal
ever to sleep soundly under freshly-pressed sheets 
with a scalloped edge.