Red Jacket
Monday, July 23, 2007 At four or five or six years old,
my mother outfitted me with a red jacket
that had a hood and a double pocket on the belly
and a metal zipper that went tick-tick-tick in soft clicks
that could only be heard when you were inside it.
The fleece was on the inside where it counted,
and it had broad, soft elastic cuffs at the wrists
where my mother would stuff tissues
that I used to squash bugs
so that I could see the colour of their insides.
I knew that my insides were red,
but theirs were brown or yellow or green,
unless sometimes if they ate people, like mosquitoes.
I would find that jacket hanging in the closet in the winter,
and I would smell it and push its smooth insides into my face.
It meant things, that coat. Even then I knew.
It was the smell of rain-damp dirt with mashed in pine needles
from the trees way up north,
and my cold, chubby fingers in wet sand on grey days
when my uncle's curse kept the rain close;
it was the musky-sweet smell of rotten foliage
limping into the humic soil
and translucent snail shells snapping easy against
water-worn pebbles no bigger than my smallest fingernail.
That coat is a place.
That coat is a place even at the bottom
of the landfill it was thrown into
after my mother secreted it from the house.
Long from then, now, when I lie in bed,
older and sore and worried,
I am in that coat with fat cheeks
counting the beetle shells
that I have stashed in my sleeves.
Reader Comments (13)
I really like this, and can identify. Vivid yet comfortable, as if it were my own recollection.
Your poetry is always so evocative and I so enjoy reading it. You really have a wy with words- they take me to another place and time.
Thank you...
Such vivid memories of a happy, safe time in your life. Lovely poem.
Beautifully written. I love the precise details and suprises.
"That coat is a place" is marvelous, though I love all the buggy things, too.
You've captured very well how an item like a coat can take you right back to earlier times. I like the last stanza particularly.
i read this on your other page,, and loved it even more the second time around... makes me want to wrap myself up in the warm quilted jacket of my own childhood.....
This evoked very soothing feelings in me.
I connected with it as I refus to part with my oldest coat.
I can't believe the fantastic poetry this week! The images and smells of your beloved coat were amazing! You rocked this!
Like the "petite madeleines" of Proust. Interesting poem.
Memories. The picture you paint is so vivid. I'm remembering now that mine was blue.
Nice poem, it describes so completely a feeling of comfort. It's amazing how one object from our past can be tied to such vivid memories.
Oh, sweetness. Lots of folk can't even see that far back, let alone with any detail.
I love your poetry so much. This was vivid and beautiful. I smell that coat like my red rubber boots and earthworms in the spring in Pennsylvania.