Ritual for Moving

by Jennifer Abod


I open the porch door,
shake loose a rough night
in the rush of cool.

In my kitchen,
a pillow cradles my back.
I wait at the table
for something
to make me
want to move.

I look up at the old clock,
note the time left
before I have to be
somewhere else.

After she died,
it was strange
having time.
It’s taken
some years
to fill it.

Now, I look for magic
in the uncharted hours:
scrubbing tiles
ironing a vest
folding socks
washing dishes

looking out the window.


* * * * *

Jennifer Abod, Ph.D., is an award-winning, pioneering feminist/lesbian filmmaker and radio broadcaster. She is a former Assistant Professor of Communication and Women’s Studies, and Corporate Media Specialist. From 1970-1976, she sang with New Haven Women’s Liberation Rock Band. She sings Jazz, weekly, in Long Beach, California, and is working on her first poetry collection.  Her poems appear in Sinister Wisdom, Spices and Seasonings, and One Art Journal. At One Art, find her poems “Envy,” “At the Indian Ocean,” “Rethinking Pink,” and “Dance Lessons.” Her poem, “Turning Point, 1979,” appeared in Metro Weekly. Visit her at jenniferabod.com.