When Writers Meet Art
Martin Mull, Silverdale, 2002
Artwork courtesy of the Artist
HOLDING ON
Alarie Tennille
He supposes most people
have holes in their childhoods,
but he’s misplaced whole years—
like small boats set sail in a storm
without even a teacher’s name
to anchor them. He remembers
trivial things—a brown corduroy
armchair, a cowboy Santa,
but can’t match them to a time
or place, doesn’t know if they
belonged to him or were borrowed
from a book or neighbor.
He’s lived in Akron, Memphis,
Springfield, Dallas, Richmond.
Even cities have moved
away, leaving him in storage
till adulthood, where he
unpacked himself
at 129 Main Street. Been here
30 years. Lined every shelf with jars
of screws, pennies, paper clips,
filled each room with baskets
of magazines, umbrellas, old clothes.
Might need them someday.
