by Nancy Scott
Gift bags folded from scraps of gold wallpaper,
crocheted dishtowels buttoned most-needed close,
plastic-canvas memo holders that hang on doorknobs.
I seek reliable recycling and brilliant bargains
between the smell of sauerkraut and talk of fudge.
The hunt for giveable taste and good intentions is palpable,
priced to tempt and to sell.
Proceeds benefit the Senior Center.
Circles of minds and hands have plotted since March.
Christmas calls “hurry” in suddenly-cold November.
The prayer rocks pull me.
I buy four weighted, blue cotton bags,
find instructions attached by red ribbons:
“Place on pillow to tap
the heads of those too comfortable.”
On the last table, feathered angels wait.
Their wings billow slow lace
but they have no faces.
They need only second sight.
I buy one for myself.
Nancy Scott’s over 650 essays and poems have appeared in magazines, literary journals, anthologies, newspapers, and as audio commentaries. She has a new chapbook, The Almost Abecedarian (on Amazon), and won First Prize in the 2009 International Onkyo Braille Essay Contest. Recent work appears in Breath and Shadow, Braille Forum, Disabilities Studies Quarterly, Philadelphia Stories, and Wordgathering.