Poem of the Week–Powers-Vermaelen


A screech of tires in the school parking lot,
then a sour woman, fuchsia lipstick hot
on her slash-like mouth sputters, raining drool,
through my window, You’re not the brightest tool
in the shed, are ya? And I give mute thanks
for pot-holes like this, for God’s little pranks.
Grinning, I state, giving disdain a try,
No, I’m definitely not. Nor am I
the sharpest bulb to be found in the pack.
I drove away, and I never looked back.

Kathleen Powers-Vermaelen
Suffolk County Branch, NY


  1. Tricia Culligan says:

    This prose brought such a smile to my face.
    I am sure I speak for many that this particular “episode” has happened to all of us, perhaps a slight bit different, but the core context is the same. Now, however, instead of standing/sitting there speechless in situations such as this, why I’ll just smile and repeat your wonderful lines!
    Many thanks for this humorous insight.