"Transactions" by Sarah Kain Gutowski
A cold snap nearly killed the plant
I'd mail-ordered, elected delivered
by USPS. It sat in a cardboard box
absorbing frost while I was out
(avoiding crowds by shopping
at some less busy time of day).
I've come to learn: Packages
and bad news arrive regardless,
in one form or another. I used
to love the mail, envelopes full
of potential good news. Now
in the corner, bills sit unopened
because I don't want to hear
what they have to say.
In the basement, mice have
small, futile mice-tantrums
when they find our pantry filled
with food encased in Rubbermaid.
The traps remain unsnapped.
Outside, new buds on the lilac
and gooseberry bushes tell me
I'm about to exchange one season
for a newer, shinier one. The world
will keep moving, too, the daffodils
and crocuses tell me, whether or not
I decide to neglect the world.
The answering machine's been full
of robotic nonsense for weeks —
but no one living and sentient
will empty that memory bank:
no one cares to receive more messages.
My joints telegraph swollen urgent
sequences, but I'm not answering those,
either. For months I've believed
my next doctor's appointment is
next week. My memory bank refuses
to store that message. Yesterday
a former student delivered our groceries.
He spoke to my daughters, who took
the brown bags, who passed him a tip
then carried his message to the house
with the apples (they were out of green,
subbed red), which was no message, really,
just a confirmation that he once
years ago, took information I offered
in exchange for something else:
This moment, where he remembered
my name, saw my face in the face
of my daughters. A confirmation
that he once knew me, years ago,
as somebody. But if he'd seen me,
would he recognize a person
beyond the name on his receipt?
I've stopped looking in the mirror
and expecting much. It's difficult
to see the stranger there. She asks
questions I can't, or won't, answer.
Sarah Kain Gutowski is the author of The Familiar, a fabulist narrative-in-poems about female mid-life (forthcoming 2024), and Fabulous Beast: Poems. Her poetry has appeared in various print and online journals, including The Gettysburg Review, The Threepenny Review, Painted Bride Quarterly, and The Southern Review. With interdisciplinary artist Meredith Starr, she is co-creator of Every Second Feels Like Theft, a conversation in cyanotypes and poetry, and It's All Too Much, a limited-edition audio project. Her criticism has been published by Colorado Review, Calyx: A Journal of Art and Literature by Women, and New York Journal of Books.
