At Twenty-Eight
by Amy Fleury
It seems I get by on more luck than sense,
not the kind brought on by knuckle to wood,
breath on dice, or pennies found in the mud.
I shimmy and slip by on pure fool chance.
At turns charmed and cursed, a girl knows romance
as coffee, red wine, and books; solitude
she counts as daylight virtue and muted
evenings, the inventory of absence.
But this is no sorry spinster story,
just the way days string together a life.
Sometimes I eat soup right out of the pan.
Sometimes I don't care if I will marry.
I dance in my kitchen on Friday nights,
singing like only a lucky girl can.
"At Twenty-Eight" by Amy Fleury is from "Beautiful Trouble," Southern Illinois University Press, 2004
i liked this - but there are a few things that i would amend to make it more me than her....
At Twenty-Eight Forty-Three
by Amy Fleury, amendments by stephanie sykes
It seems Sometimes I wonder how I get by on more luck than sense,
not the kind brought on by knuckle to wood,
breath on dice, or pennies found in the mud.
I shimmy slide and slip by on pure fool chance.
At turns charmed and cursed, a girl knows romance
as coffee tea, red wine, and books the internet; solitude
she counts as daylight virtue and muted
evenings, the inventory of absence.
But this is no sorry spinster story,
just the way days string together a life.
Sometimes I eat soup ice cream right out of the pan carton.
Sometimes I don't care if I will marry.
I dance craft in my kitchen pit on Friday nights,
singing creating like only a lucky contented girl can.
i found this poem through american life in poetry. it is a lovely project begun by ted kooser, america's poet laureate, someone who seems like a real nice regular kind of guy.