This week we have something a little different for our Writers’ Corner. Our author started off with one poem and reworked it to create three separate works.
Posters: A three-part poem
(regrettably) by Jen Schwartz
I.
I want to know what you did with that poster. Did you take it down before you ended things? After? Maybe even during?
Is it still there? If it is, when will you take it down? When you take it down, where will it go? Somewhere hidden in a pile of nonsense in your dorm? Or perhaps in a box of things that remind you of your exes, paired with those handcuffs you failed to return to me?
Or will it wind up in the trash, crumpled and never to be seen again?
Did you look at that poster as you contemplated your feelings for me? Did you look at it as you told me we were through? Or did you glance at it after you hung up the phone, silently bidding it farewell?
Now that nothing will become of us, what will become of that simple little poster?
II.
I used to wonder what happened to that poster, but now I know. It called me on the phone today; told me the whole story. It watched you pick up the phone and dial my number — when it heard you deliver the bad news it peeled itself off the wall. After escaping the painful grasp of your neon tacks, it sauntered past that box of yours. You know the one. It told me it saw my handcuffs in that box, resting right on top of Sarah’s panties. After that the poster couldn’t take it anymore. It said that it was too much to bear so it vacated the smelly halls of Georgia Tech and went in search of a better home.
The poster says it is doing just fine.
I hope you are doing just fine too.
III.
Brad stares at the now blank spot on his wall where the poster used to hang. Just moments ago he hung up the phone to alert her of his change of heart. His eyes then travel to the corner of his dorm room where the poster lies flat, face down, on the floor. Brad considers moving it to the trashcan but finds the notion too cruel.
“Maybe tomorrow,” he thinks as he drifts off to sleep.
