Ourselves, Contained

Ourselves, Contained

If you asked me what moment
I’m looking forward to the most,
the answer might surprise you.

The standard list of milestones
appear as honourable mentions –
significant, yes, and transformative,
but decidedly not the most anticipated.

While I am excited to share with you
in the spirited game of house-hunting

(A brief aside:
do houses need
to be hunted?
They are notoriously
slow-moving
and ungainly.)

as well as to purchase a marriage bed
in a quarrelsome trip through the aisles
of a furniture store,

I will much prefer the day at the supermarket
when, along with the ingredients for a stir fry recipe
you have never tried before, we will decide
to buy some new Tupperware.

At the checkout, the receipt will document
our decision as a matter of public record:
that we have chosen to share in each other’s leftovers,
homemade cookies, packed lunches,
the miscellaneous goods that gather
at the back of our refrigerator shelves.

***

The above photo doesn’t even depict a Tupperware© brand plastic container — it’s a Ziploc. I’m such a fraud.

This poem was published in this year’s 7 Mondays, the annual student-run literary journal at Mount Allison. This year marks the fourth and final time that I’ve been published in 7 Mondays, which is an exciting realization. It has been wonderful to have such a rich and vibrant community for creative writing at Mount Allison, especially for such a small university; I’m definitely grateful to have met so many of my peers who are similarly interested in creative writing.

Author: Mitchell

I'm 22 and currently pursuing my MA in Creative Writing at the University of Toronto.

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