A poem by Brandel France de Bravo

“Returns & Exchanges” by Brandel France de Bravo

 

I’ve been in and out of stores
shopping for a metaphor
but can’t find what I’m looking for.
You say: My joints hurt.
I say: You need a new roof.
You say: I can’t swallow.
I say: You’re behind on your payments.
You say: I’m out of breath.
I say: the Bank wants it back.
You say: I can’t feel my toes.
I say: Let’s fill the john
with cement mix
and storm out to the applause
of the half-hinged screen door.
It turns out foreclosure
wasn’t what I wanted. The customer is always.
With a credit to my account
I’m driving on an eight-lane highway,
faster than the speed limit,
semis like linebackers on either side.
You say: My joints hurt.
I say: None of the stations are coming in.
You say: I can’t swallow.
I say: Adjust the sun visor.
You say: I’m out of breath.
I say: look for a rest stop.
You say: I can’t feel my toes.
I say: Something’s trying to pass us.
We both can sense it
in the blind spot,
how it will overtake us.

-Brandel France de Bravo
Mother, Loose
(Accents Publishing)

Brandel France de Bravo is the author of Provenance, which won the 2008Washington Writers’ Publishing House prize in poetry and was a ForeWord Book of the Year finalist. Her poems, which have been nominated for thePushcart Prize and Best of the Net, and essays have appeared in various journals, including Alaska Quarterly Review, The Cincinnati Review, Fairy Tale Review,Gulf Coast, and Seneca Review. She is co-author of Trees Make the Best Mobiles: Simple Ways to Raise your Child in a Complex World and the editor of Mexican Poetry Today: 20/20 Voices. A graduate of the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College with a master’s in public health, she works for a for a consumer health organization in Washington, D.C.