Nomination for Publication of the Year on Spillwords

My poem, “Marie Kondo Cleans My Purse at Starbucks” has been nominated Publication of the Year on Spillwords. The poem follows. If you like the poem, would you vote for it? It would mean a lot to me. The poem is included in my debut poetry collection, Three-Penny Memories: A Poetic Memoir (EIF-Experiments in Fiction, 2022).

Congratulations to all of the nominees in each category! I’m humbled to have my name listed next to yours!

VOTING will be officially held from January 26th – January 31st on our voting page: https://spillwords.com/vote/

Please note, you need to register and/or login to vote.

Marie Kondo Cleans My Purse at Starbucks

Konmari sees me at Starbucks. 
My purse spills over on the counter.
“May I help?”

She gathers me up
like I’m antique lace 
washed too many times.

Before she begins, she whispers,
“Hello, the House,
I am safe. May I enter?”

She pokes through my purse, 
pulling out the deck of cards 
Mom once carried in her own purse. 

A heavy bag of Mom’s pennies 
to redeem for cash.
Her checkbook.

The messy calendar
that listed her appointments
alongside my own.

The quilt she made me, 
now falling apart. A cookbook
compiled in her own hand.

Konmari extracts other artifacts,
laying them gently on lined up tables.
People gather. My eyes bleed.

The extra-large pair of panties
Mom made me wear to Sunday school.
The wash, still not done.

A half-used bottle of Diethylstilbestrol 
she was prescribed to prevent spotting 
when I was in utero.

The tricycle she rode 
around town at age three 
because her mother never watched her.

My cancer scares, scattered 
on the bottom of the purse 
like cookie crumbs.

The scabs inflicted 
by her compression stockings
I failed to wash one last time.

The clump of tissue 
I miscarried, swaddled 
in an inner pocket.

Her hysterectomy scar.
My hysterectomy scar.
Entwined on a spool.

My t-shaped uterus, 
clenching a half-used packet 
of Puffs Plus.

A dogeared photo of Mom.
A mirror reflecting 
who I want to be.

Konmari has me 
hold each item 
one last time, saying,

“Thank you, tiny soul, 
for sharing your life. I am
grateful.”

She teaches me 
how to fold joy 
three times.

How to throw out
what I can 
no longer carry.

Copyright © 2022 Barbara Leonhard
All Rights Reserved


Thank you so much! I really appreciate you!

Amazon Best-Selling Author
Three-Penny Memories: A Poetic Memoir (EIF-Experiments in Fiction, 2022)
Pushcart Nominee, 2022
Facebook: Barbara Harris Leonhard /barbara.leonhard
Twitter: @BarbaraLeonhar4
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Featured Image: by 1tamara2 on Pixabay
Divider Image: by GDJ on Pixabay