Katy Giebenhain Reads at Reader's Cafe

Katy Giebenhain, a local poet, reads her work at Reader's Cafe in Hanover. Below is one of her poems.

The Commuter

At the police station
the officer nods, types with two fingers,
offers me a cigarette.
He blows smoke from the side of his mouth,
which has said before, and before

and before that

describe what happened next.

The chair, desk, swinging door

are entirely TV-cop-show,
as are the telephone list in its plastic sleeve,

the Tupperware lid in the in-tray,
my purse between us, gutted.

27 hours in the same clothes,

with unbrushed teeth and raccoon eyes,

robbed after an agency all-nighter,

I can sure as hell describe

what happens next.

There’s another client, project, work day,

pay check, missed train, decade.

I will leave the officer, shoulder my way

onto the crowded train.

White collar miner.

Bodies were not meant for this either.

What should happen next?

What doesn’t happen next?

(This poem first appeared in BOOMSLANG POETRY MAGAZINE.)