Iris

Iris sat on the edge of the bed
sucking on a Sponge Bob snack cup
full of mountain mix and looking
through the newspaper classifieds—

Vacant: having no fixtures, furniture,
or inhabitants; empty.

A large caramel-colored stain
on the lower half of the paper
reminded her faintly
of Jesus.

“There’s absolutely nothing here.”
She spoke to a dark cell phone,
drawing lines with it across the want ads
as if it were a tracking device,
counting the kilometers
she’d traveled. A cloud

of moisture bloomed
on the little display, then vanished
when she lifted her thumb.

Missing: notice the loss or absence of

“I remember when you were hot.”
She breathed on the keypad.
Outside her room the sound
of a pop can dropping
into its retrieval shoot.

Iris packed up the Tupperware
and sandwich keepers. She eased
off the bed, moved slowly
to the door. On the walkway
a woman with a cart of towels
held a cigarette, touched it
to her lips like goodbye.

Jude Goodwin is a Canadian poet living on the west coast where she freelances as publisher/editor/author and illustrator for various small journals and papers. Her poems can be read in various journals, including Cider Press Review, Burnside Review, Comstock Review, and CV2. Her work has won and placed well in the IBPC: New Poetry Voices competition, was shortlisted in the CBC Radio Literary Awards, and received Honorable Mention in the Jessie Bryce Niles Chapbook Competition. More of Jude's poems can be found on her website: judegoodwin.com.