Far from Rockabye
by Jennifer Markell
At the mall she felt clean & she needed clean since he’d used up her shampoo & her hair was greasy under her winter hat. She walked the aisles as if they were freshly paved streets, enjoying the smoothness underfoot. Music overhead asked nothing of her. At Hearth and Home, she let her hand linger inside a cushioned oven mitt. Her fingers surfed the tide of bath mats, stroked the raveled fringe of a pashmina blanket. She watched young couples register for kettles & candlesticks. High school girls maneuvered the racks at Crush, man-handling the pre-faded jeans with rips in them like un-sutured wounds. The air smelled of somebody’s mother. She couldn’t go back to him. Always the danger of delicate lingerie. Nightgowns made her cry.
Jennifer Markell’s first poetry collection, Samsara, (Turning Point, 2014) was named a “Must Read” book of poetry by the Massachusetts Book Awards in 2015. Her second book, Singing at High Altitude, was published in November 2021 by the Main Street Rag. Jennifer’s work has been included in The Bitter Oleander, The Cimarron Review, Consequence, RHINO, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, and the Women’s Review of Books, among others. Before joining the board, she received the Barbara Bradley and Firman Houghton Awards from the New England Poetry Club. For the past twenty-four years, Jennifer has worked in community mental health and as a therapist. She lives in the Boston area with her husband and three well-versed cats.
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What surprising, fascinating stuff can you tell us about the origin, drafting, and/or final version of “Far from Rockabye”? Years ago I worked at a homeless shelter for women. I served meals, handed out tiny bars of soap and towels for the showers, talked with the guests. I became aware of how vulnerable the women were, how vulnerable we all were, living in a country with a frayed safety net. Recently I saw a woman walking at the mall whose demeanor made me think she must be homeless. I wondered about her story and wanted to explore it and get closer to her through writing. Who was she, what had brought her to this point in her life, and what was she looking for at the mall? As I began to write, the pathos of her story took shape in my mind through the material objects she was drawn to.
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Submissions
Poetry, creative nonfiction, and fiction/prose poetry submissions are now closed. The reading period for standard submissions opens again September 15, 2025. Submit here.
Upcoming
12/15 • Isabelle Ness
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