Archive: Soulmates

First published in 4W19 in 2008. This poem also became part of the curriculum for creative writing students at Charles Sturt University in 2008. Republished in Stillcraic in 2011.

Soulmates

I bought silverbeet
and refused a bag
and as I stepped away from the checkout
it occurred to me
that I was holding it
like a bunch of flowers. But casually,
as those who are often given flowers do.

And for a moment
I walked with a jaunty step,
as those who are often given flowers do.

And I realised
I had chosen it with care,
as do those
who sometimes buy flowers,
pushing some aside to find the best,
freshest,
unbruised bouquet,
the coldest one,
the one with the deepest green,
the deepest folds,
the juiciest scattering of spray-on dew.

And as I sauntered
through the autodoors
into the night
a man
stepped into my pathway
and I thought
he is going to ask for money

but instead he said
"Are those for me?"

and I couldn't help but smile,
because he thought the way I did,
and for a moment I wanted,
more than anything,
to loosen a stem
and give it to him,
like some Shakespearean hero
would give a single rose,
like people who never give flowers
do.

But even though he'd made me smile, and
because I'd expected him to ask for money, and
because the words were already on my tongue
and the movements in my legs, I said
"No, sorry."
and
skirted him,
and
walked away.

© Laura Smith 2008