Featured Poem II • August 2015
The Secret Life of Cabinets
Anne Carly Abad
Bump, bump in the night goes Baul, which is a cabinet’s sometimes-name when it’s huge and carved from hardwood and holds once-pretty things so they bide their time ’til they’re in fashion again. A private fellow, Baul is fortunate to keep the darkness in its womb since much is lost when a master rummages motley contents for daily wear. Yet so much solitude begins to make it feel like a clam. Baul looks for witching hour’s pothole and there joins a coven of cabinets to trade goods if any is any good— A once-used wedding dress, bam-slams the auctioneer, from the rarely opened newcomer. An aparador flashes a steel-bone corset that swings and shimmers from its silk hanger; A platera lumbers forward with blue and white chinaware, dropping a few in its excitement, but Baul already has too many matrimonial props and so, before sunrise, takes from a peeling tukador odd socks, an over-worn panty, an expired credit card, gel desiccants and the dried leather of a spider— Baul returns home with the spoils, and looks forward to the day when the master might harvest its pearls.
Anne Carly Abad is a Muay Thai fighter sometimes but is more often a writer. She is also a slave who cleans up after a fat, spoiled hedgehog named Porky, who likes to poo whenever he runs.
Anne was nominated for the Pushcart Prize for her poem “The Bitter Gourd’s Fate,” which was published by Niteblade. Her work will appear or has appeared in Nameless Digest, Apex, and Edwin E. Smith’s Quarterly Magazine. Her science fiction/fantasy novel, The Light Bringer’s Kingdom is soon to be released by Zharmae Publishing Press. Get a first look at her new book at: http://www.zharmae.com/our-
She tells us she wrote “The Secret Life of Cabinets” after “rummaging my things and then finding out that several socks were missing. It’s always been like this since I was little. Usually, a few days later, the socks would be complete again, with their respective pairs. Makes you wonder if hidden objects go out walking during the night or maybe they get ‘borrowed’ while we aren’t looking. I had to tell their story!”
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