“On Farrell Street” by Bonnie Markowski

On Farrell Street

You can’t be 10 on Farrell Street —
even in a red checkered dress
with a Scottie dog on it. The house
you carry is ponderous resting
on your small shoulders — 20
maybe, but still not enough layers
of life between you and the cracking coal
mine below —

You can’t be patient on Farrell Street —
you need to move, move as soon as you can
because even if the shot glass has a
pretty “L” etched on it, you’re still
a little girl drowning in ochre, caught
in a whiskey dream, a mosquito stuck
in amber goo before it fossilizes —

You can’t love the belly of things on Farrell Street —
not your own fat belly or the belly of bread. You learn
to like the crusts, the edges of things, the pink crescent
of the watermelon rind — though the gut punch
of words becomes a way you know you’re still there.
No Indigo Bunting bruises someone might call cruelty,
just a catalogue list of why you should not . . .

You can’t live on Farrell Street —
yet you do, even when all the other
voices slap you against the shabby papered
walls. You learn to like the corners, ignore
the smell of burned shoes in the coal stove,
the stinging smelling man breath. You hide
in your Nonna’s apron, wonder why you’re addicted
to the smell of bleach.

Bonnie Markowski

Bonita Lini Markowski is a poet and educator who lives and teaches in northeastern Pennsylvania. She received her MFA in Creative Writing at the Rainier Writing Workshop at Pacific Lutheran University. Her poems have appeared in the Gyroscope Review, PA Bards Northeastern Review (2020), River and South Review (2021), PA Bards Eastern Poetry Review (2021), and Sonic Boom Journal, and are forthcoming in BirdHouse Magazine and the anthology, The Power of the Feminine I. Her poetry was also selected for the award-winning Poetry in Transit program (2023), Luzerne County, Pennsylvania.

Headshot: Ann M. Toole

Photo Credit: Staff