"Old Woman" by Lindsey Gray

I advance on Linens or Kitchenware,
snapping a crocodile purse open & shut,
glimpse my face in a window, skin
falling in folds. It, too, has arrived
from someplace else, no longer afraid
that pebbles in the mouth will make it
difficult to complain.

The clerk ignores me for the clock
ticking minutes off stiff fingers. My ears
crackle like wartime radio, I open my mouth
but hold my tongue. When the salesgirl
has earned a face like mine, she'll prowl
this mall, squint at bargains, guard the day's
haggle on the rough ride home; and arriving
there, show her package to the cat, already
turning away with a sniff, perpendicular tail
questioning the true value of a dollar.

BIO: Cheryl Snell has new work in Thunder Sandwich, Pebble Lake Review, Snow Monkey and other journals. The author of two chapbooks of poetry, Flower Half Blown (Finishing Line Press, 2002) and Epithalamion (Little Poem Press, 2004), she is a two-time Pushcart Prize nominee. Email: cherylsnell@hotmail.com