In order to view this poem with the line breaks the author intended, we suggest reading it on a computer screen or in the landscape orientation on your phone or tablet.

Upon Entry
Mark Walsh

On a gray afternoon in bone-raw November,
yards from the automatic door of the supermarket,
a young mother — crisp, sharp, coordinated — throws
her head back, eyeing her skipping daughter, and says,
”Daddy hates it when you make up words.”
Slapping flat sole of sneaker against tarmac
the girl babbles another easy phrase of rhythmic
nonsense, smiling at the pleasure of sound,
her voice bouncing over ‘aaaays’ and ‘eeeez’
like joyful tumbles inside an inflatable castle.
The mother stops, faces the child and
with final politeness states, “Daddy. Hates it.”
Disenchanted, the girl drops chin to chest,
shoulders round and fold inward like a pillbug
curling against harm. In silence mother,
daughter and phantom father pass through
the gateway of the land of sugar and fat.
And just like that —
another poet killed upon entry.

—
Mark Walsh is an English professor at Massasoit Community College in Brockton, MA. His recent publications include Wilderness House Literary Review, The Beatnik Cowboy, Abandoned Mine, and Rituals. His poem “Slow Wine” is currently part of an art installation outside the entrance of the Brockton Public Library.

Know anyone who might appreciate reading Mark’s poem?
Why not share the link to this page?

Have you read these poems:
Where Animals Dream by Madeline Izzo
Hands Down by Cathy Porter

Table of Contents