This delightfully bawdy poem transforms a Walmart shopping trip into something approaching the sacred. The central conceit—Bertha as both woman and boat, the shopping cart as “Sweet Chariot”—allows Plahm to play with double meanings throughout: “berth” becomes “Bertha,” aisles become “isles,” and cushions become something more intimate. The elongated words (“pussssh,” “cusssshions,” “siggggh,” “Flussssh”) add a sensual purr to the proceedings. But beneath the playfulness lies genuine affection—for the “joyous bunch” who treat the speaker “like a son,” for the grace found in narrow aisles, and for the love that transforms any space into home. The closing invitation—”Meet me at Walmart. Sunday morning, early”—is both punchline and genuine offer of communion.

A joyously irreverent piece that finds the sacred in the profane—or at least in the fluorescent-lit aisles of Walmart. Plahm’s gift for wordplay is on full display: the “berth/Bertha” pun, the “isle/aisle” substitution, and the “Sweet Chariot” refrain all work beautifully. The elongated consonants (“pussssh,” “cusssshions”) add a tactile pleasure to the reading. The poem’s structure—moving from introduction through increasingly intimate address to the closing invitation—creates genuine emotional arc. Where it occasionally tips toward excess is in its eagerness to include everything; the “Velvet Ark” and “having your cake and eating it too” feel slightly crowded alongside the dominant nautical imagery. But the warmth is undeniable. This is a love poem to community, to Sunday mornings, and to the grace of women who make even mundane errands feel like home.