Sample Poems by Anne Harding Woodworth

---

Prologue

A Zoom from Co. Clare Ireland on Fridays
brings poets from all over the world into my life.
We chatter, laugh, confess, and eventually
read a poem or two—something of our own,
something by someone else, something new or old.
It’s just poets getting together during a pandemic,
who—through the miracle of technology—found each other,
or were found, and began to tune in every week.
Last Friday, an American in Tipperary—Theresa—
read one of her narrative poems. Several among us told her
it had the makings of a novella in verse. A what? she asked.
I’ll send you mine, Spare Parts, I said, not that it’s even close
to being a prototype. It’ll just give you an idea.
So, on Monday afternoon, July 12—
after my FaceTime workout with Steven,
a “fitness professional,” who’s been keeping me fit
for 12 years, albeit for ten in a gym, not a living room,
which, because of the Covid pandemic, is where
he keeps me virtually fit now on FaceTime—
I took Spare Parts to my local DC Post Office.

---

July 12, 2:53 pm USPS in possession of item, Washington DC 20016

Errands are always more time-consuming than you think
they’re going to be—Time, measured by the hands
of a clock as we move toward our ends,
actually went smoothly on this day at the Post Office.
Masked, I waited in line at a distance of six feet
from the woman in front of me, and she
from the man in front of her.
The line moved slowly, but I was lucky.
I got the no-nonsense, laconic, very thin, elderly man
(he’d helped me before—like the time I’d written the name
of a street incorrectly, and he caught the mistake).
But not all those who work at the P.O. would be capable
of getting Spare Parts to Ireland—there, I said it—
considering the days and delays a piece of mail often takes.
And what does Postmaster General Louis DeJoy say about that?
All that aside, Spare Parts—the item— was on its way.
Tracking number: USPS UH0378395521US
Email: Theresa, have sent my novella in verse, Spare Parts,
to you. It should be there in less than a week. Anne
Email: Thanks, Anne. We shall see. I know the USPS is
not what it used to be. Thanks again. Theresa
When I was at Smith College, I had a classmate
whose father was Postmaster General. 1963. That’s when
they introduced the zip code—just five digits like 20016
for my neighborhood. He made things work, Mr. Day did.
As for you, Mr. DeJoy, let’s see
whether you can make things work, too.

---

July 12, 7:44 pm Arrived at USPS Regional Facility, Southern MD Distribution Center Annex

Tonight Fred & I had a late supper: pastitsio, salad, ice cream.
I tell him about the P.O. and tracking for Spare Parts.
It’s already left DC, I say. He says, It’ll never get to Tipperary,
and tells me an eighth-grade kind of joke that has to do
with a “rary.” How much should you tip a rary? After supper,
he reads quietly to me from Sandburg’s The People, Yes.

---

July 13, 12:25 am Departed USPS Regional Facility, Southern MD Distribution Center Annex

Fred’s been asleep for hours. I’ve just watched
three episodes of “Heartland” on my tablet.
Is that bingeing? I never thought I could be so enthralled
with horses. They have completely won me over.
Between the second and third episodes,
I checked the P.O. tracking.
Goodbye, Distribution Center Annex,
wherever you are in southern Maryland.