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Is This Your Bag Please Would You Open It
The moment you know they are about to find something
pushing aside the mini marmalades
withdrawing the curler with latex fingers
folding a flap folding back another flap
your underwear grinning not getting the situation
placed inside a box PROPERTY OF HEATHROW;
it isn’t personal though it sure feels
like it’s personal when a man asks you
how long you spent in Romania when moments ago
you said you were in London and packed your own
bag who else would pack your fucking bag
but he thinks it’s charming
to get things wrong or maybe professional
to run on a hunch he swipes the straps
for a bomb test banters while your bras
feel badly for you they never wanted this in spite
of their lace finally he finds the toiletries case delays
the pleasure of admonishing you for Alice-sized lotions
stolen from hotels into another box they go
it’s a job remember you can’t take it personally
if he hands you his number on a food court receipt
prettiest terrorist I’ve seen all day
is this your privacy and can he . . .
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Maya C. Popa is the author of Wound Is the Origin of Wonder (Norton, 2022) and American Faith (Sarabande, 2019). She is the Poetry Reviews Editor of Publishers Weekly and a PhD candidate at Goldsmiths, University of London, writing on the role of wonder in poetry.
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Francesca Woodman, Untitled, from the series Space2, Providence, Rhode Island,1976.
I really like how this poem jumps forward through subtle interruptions formed in the spaces between phrases. The poem's significant action, threaded with Popa's speaker's intriguing internal concerns, makes a reader want to look for more of her work. A real treat this morning. Thanks Terence for posting this poem.
Posted by: Don Berger | March 27, 2022 at 12:42 PM
totally agree with don...I want more
Posted by: lally | March 27, 2022 at 12:50 PM
Don: Thanks for the comment.
Posted by: Terence Winch | March 27, 2022 at 01:44 PM
I know how she feels!
Posted by: april havoc | March 27, 2022 at 03:28 PM
Intriguing comment on how others invade our privacy. I had this happen to me and my favorite cologne was confiscated because it went above the ounce allowance. Someone else smells sweeter!
Posted by: Eileen | March 27, 2022 at 04:11 PM
This rings a few bells. A great poem - thanks for posting!
Posted by: Jennifer O’R | March 27, 2022 at 04:48 PM
Ah, the photographs of the late Francesca Woodman. The heart aches. Pure poetry.
Thank you for posting.
Posted by: Emily Fragos | March 27, 2022 at 08:40 PM
The private and the personal are interwoven in this seething poem. The poet expected privacy, but it was violated throughout. Respect for the personal was repeatedly affirmed, but it too was violated. There was no word for what the searcher was doing.
Posted by: Peter Kearney | March 27, 2022 at 08:41 PM
I feel this one at every level including the very personal
Posted by: Clarinda harriss | March 27, 2022 at 08:49 PM
Emily: Thanks for the comment. Woodman was so talented.
Posted by: Terence Winch | March 28, 2022 at 10:10 AM
The public stripping at airport security counters, the handling of intimate objects, chocolates, bras, lace stirring the fire where it stirs, and the travesty, the power relation, the transgression and the daring of the official crossing the invisible line and trying to seek the favor of the passing beauty. Strong poem and a deft management of space as well, words like objects scattered in the bag of the page. Well done
Indran
Indran Amirthanayagam,
publisher Beltway Editions (www.beltwayeditions.com)
Posted by: Indran Amirthanayagam | April 03, 2022 at 06:15 PM
late to the party but yes yes yes! love this, the quiet relentlessness, agree with all the comments too.
Posted by: Elinor Nauen | April 21, 2022 at 05:59 PM