THE WORRIER
Nancy Takacs
Now that you are her, what will you do?
I’ll walk across the swinging bridge
and light a clove cigarette.
How will you roam?
I’ll drive a Packard convertible,
my man in a long dark coat beside me.
In the countryside, where will you land, and what will you eat?
We’ll find a bar in northern Wisconsin.
We won’t eat.
What are you wearing, and what do you look like?
An indigo dress, a little black cloche.
I’ve outlined my lips
to look like a sweet maroon bow.
What songs will you sing?
“Heart of My Heart”
And “I Don’t Want to Play in Your Yard.”
Who will know you better than anyone?
My silk chemise.
What undergarments do you wear?
None.
What tree do you wear instead?
The plum.
Why?
Because it’s a palm full of dusk.
What word will you use?
Flagrant. It’s time for this.
Where does the word go?
It rises from under my bare feet when I leave the beach.
What is strange about you now?
There is nothing strange.
What is common?
I have loved the first light.
Where does the light go?
It goes under the letters in captions of what I say.
Where does the scent go?
It goes into my eyes, my mouth, the way I turn my head
so that you will imagine lilacs.
Initially printed in The Tampa Review and The Worrier: Poems (University of Massachusetts Press, 2017).
I guess this poem is a favorite of mine, as it’s the first Worrier poem I wrote, and it called me back to write more Worriers, that became a book. I like the film star because she is strong, even though she is, in a sense, voiceless. However, in the poem, she has a voice. She takes charge of where she is going, is confident about her choices, and plays with the reader a bit.
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NANCY TAKACS is an avid boater, hiker, and mushroom forager. She lives near the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore in northern Wisconsin, and in the high-desert town of Wellington, Utah. Her latest book of poems is Dearest Water. nancytakacs.org