Ruth Hendricks

 
 

Cracking the Frame


After you light candles, it's important

to douse match heads in the sink

before you put them in the garbage so

they don't smolder.  The milky water

in cereal bowls works as well and

you don't even need to the turn the faucet.

Use bamboo tongs to retrieve burnt toast

Never text while driving,

But you can sit at a red light

on 40th Street, wait to go over the bridge

and some guy in his dad's Cadillac slams

into your Jeep, can crush the gas tank,

crack your frame, give you discomfort

in a shoulder and neck.  For a long time.

It's a definite total. Just let you know

what you control-

the sum of which is zero.



* * * * * * * *



Dear Shiny Buick Man


Dear Shiny Buick Man

in York PA,

You've lived in my upstairs hall closet

over two years now, in a frame and mat.

I wanted to tell youI took your picture

one January Sunday

just before I pulled out of the lot.

I lifted my camera off the front seat,

shot you quick, no time to focus.

Your car caught in a lovely light,

a luster pristine-and you in your tie.

Maybe you were coming from church.

Or going. 

Codorus Creek on your left,

but not the whitewater part.

The Heritage Rail Trail no trains that day.

I want you to know

how I admire your fuzzy dice,

how they dangle still

frozen in that moment

from your rearview mirror.

I think you saw me.

But didn't know what happened

so I thought I should write and tell you.

I hope you don't mind.


* * * * * * * *



My Bookshelf


You tell me my old books smell

like a Goodwill bin.

Old dust and stick your nose in,

breathe.


The weight of them

on the house's foundation.

My hardwood floors sag.

You say I'm impaired

in technology.

Society will evolve without me?

All I need in my life

is an e-reader not musty books.


I like the feel of them in my hand.

Turn them over, slip off a dustjacket.

See the author peer back at me.

The opening of the first page.

Or a slender bookmark to hold my place.

I'm sad they're closing the store.


My list of reasons to read

from a page (or your preferred screen)--


There's escape,

entertainment,

information,

directions-

maps, cooking, and signs,

travel or how to put something together

take meds,

but for me

reason number one. Two and three.

There's my mother's voice

my dad's, in certain volumes

reading to me-

the escape I mentioned before.

And enjoyment. Sheer enjoyment.

I'm sure you can think of more.


 

Ruth Hendricks , a 1993 WPWP Fellow, teaches Art K-8 in the Pittsburgh Public Schools.

She is an award-winning photographer. Her film Quart Jar Poet; Dorothy Holley debuted in Fall 2005. Her poems have been published in the Post-Gazette and City Paper, Voices from the Attic-Madwomen Anthology and  After the Bell: Contemporary American Prose About School Edited by Maggie Anderson and David Hassler   Univ of Iowa Press.  She has two photographs in Along These Rivers, Poetry and Photography from Pittsburgh celebrates the 250th year of Pittsburgh through the work of 92 artists.

Poems by Ruth