by Rochelle Ratner
Some of the finest treasures in the world are in back
rooms here. Jewelry. Relics. Icons. People are
mesmerized just walking through these halls. (She
has diabetes). Even curators get paid a fraction of
what they're worth, and she's only an assistant. She
lives in a cramped apartment in not exactly what
you'd call a good neighborhood. (She has Type 1
diabetes). For years she's watched people above her
being given trinkets. She's watched workers stuffing
them in pockets. And she knows art dealers more
than willing to pay. (She's 52 years old). First time in
a decade they've done an inventory. All this dust can't
be good for her. (She has to see the doctor yet
again). In the park across from the Medical Center an
intern sleeps on a bench, tie loosened, mouth wide
open, pager on his belt. Grass protrudes through the
octagonal paving stones. Another section of the park
has been cordoned off. (Do you have any idea how
much an overdose of insulin costs)? She goes back to
her desk. She slumps over.
Rochelle Ratner's latest poetry books include Balancing Acts (Marsh Hawk Press, 2006), Beggars at the Wall (Ikon, 2006) and House and Home (Marsh Hawk Press, 2003). She is the author of fifteen previous poetry collections and two novels (Bobby’s Girl and The Lion’s Share) both published by Coffee House Press). More information and links to her writing on the Internet can be found on her homepage.
