In my Creative Writing course, we are reading a book called In the Palm of Your Hand by Steve Kowit. To sum it up in one sentence, this book offers advice on how to write better poetry. In the beginning of the book, Kowit addresses on how to play with time within a poem and exhibits how one can do that through an example poem called “How I Knew Harold*” by Deborah Harding. After reading the poem, he challenges the reader to write a poem in the same style as Harding did. Well, I tried and here’s my attempt to play with time through words and poetry.


“How I Lost My Favorite Pair of Jeans”

Around 2010 we all sat in Mike’s basement

              as we played Apples to Apples.

              Chocolate chip cookies 

               crumbled in my mouth.

               Jon kept rubbing my thigh.

Around 2008 my perfect set of jeans ripped

              underneath the back pocket. My

              mom said that she could not fix it.

              Kayla and I are not talking.

Around 2004 I started to keep a diary. I wrote

              about how I didn’t like Josh anymore

              because he had green frosting caked

              on his face one day.

Around 1999 my sister and I jumped on my

              dad’s tractor. Somehow we got it

              started and we flew down the hill.

              My mom screamed and ran next to

              us with her arms stretched out to

              grab us. We stopped and my

              mom cried. I was five and my

              sister was three.

Around 2012 my mom handed me a Kleenex

              and said, “You deserve better than

              him Sage. Forget about him.”

              I walked into the woods and

              screamed through my tears.

Around 2013 I walked home alone without

              a jacket because someone threw

              up on it. It was 3 am in December.

              My best friend refused to walk

              home with me.

Around 2009 I had my first interview. The

              employer asked me to sit on my

              hands because they were distracting.

              She smelled of baby powder. She

              said I could write well though.

Around 2006 my brother had tears in his

              eyes because of a bully. I yelled at

              the bully, heat reddening my face.

              He never said anything to my

              brother again.

Around 2014 I placed my dinner and

              drink on the corner table in the

              cafe. I whipped out my laptop to

              try to hide the fact that I had 

              no one to eat with.

Around 2007 I had the perfect pair of jeans.

              They fit snuggly around my

              waist and legs, yet I could

              move in them. Kayla, my best

              friend, gave them to me.

Around 2011 Jon tells me that he’s in

              love with me and wants to

              spend the rest of his life with

              me. I believed him.


2 thoughts on “How I Lost My Favorite Pair of Jeans

  1. I think you did a really good job of capturing the essence of the original poem using the motif of your jeans.

    Have to say, though, it’s hard to beat the implied drama of that moment at the funeral! 😉

    • Thanks for reading Shawn and thanks for the positive feedback, I appreciate it.

      I do agree though, it is very hard to beat the moment at the funeral. Harding beat me there, but that’s okay 🙂

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