Poems by Claire Scott

UNIVERSAL TOOL BOX

A hammer
to hang
the picture
of us hiking
Mount Hood
a screwdriver to
fix the shutter
slamming at night
when we are
wrapped together
like Frida & Diego
a utility knife
to cut slicing
words away
fuck face
stupid fool
a tape measure
to measure our
grandkids’ heights
on the closet door
a pair of pliers
to pull out
the old spiky
arguments
that fester like
splinters
you promised
how could you
a drill
to reach
the deep down
love despite
sulky moments
& hardened hearts
ghostly traces
left behind
but no tools
in the toolbox
whispering under
dawn waves
no tools
to bring back
the scuff of slippers
the smell of coffee
that wakes me
every morning

EQUAL OPPORTUNITY

I just bought an eight-pack of bony Jesuses,
an Amazon special, to be sure Jesus remembers
this little lamb if I run a red light
or ease through a stop sign as
an 18-wheeler rolls through

I also bought eight fuzzy rabbits’ feet
on fake gold chains in case I need good luck
when stopped by a crotchety cop who had
a serious spat with her husband this morning
when she discovered condoms in his back pocket

I will hang a dangling Jesus on my rearview
mirror on even numbered days
and the rabbit’s foot on odd days
covering all my bases

My car stinks of cigarette smoke
cigarettes snuck on the way home
a pack of peppermint Tic Tacs by my side
what’s a girl to do after a tough day
when her boss discovers her on Telegram

Messaging her new true love
so back to Amazon to buy a teakwood
air freshener to swing from my mirror
Jesus scowls as I toss him in the glove compartment
the rabbit’s foot doesn’t seem to mind

Sharing space with my Honda manual
written in minus two point type
and impossibly translated from Japanese
my car smells better although I worry
about the missing mojo

But I sure do need a smoke right now
maybe the air freshener is the way to go
and the Jesuses and rabbits’ feet can be
returned to Amazon tomorrow morning