got on a plane

yesterday

on time departure

no delays

girl next to me

shaking violently

with anxiety

going just from Denver

to LA

when we touched down

I thanked God quietly

whether it’s luck or fate

she knew it wasn’t guaranteed

surviving the landing

surviving our own insecurities

Its Monday.

My boss calls me into her office-HR is there, wonderful.

I slide into the open chair. I knew this was coming. Reduced to part time

They try to pitch me other jobs to make up for the 33% loss and doubled insurance.

My mouth is so dry, my foul breath from morning coffee must be unbearable for them-pity.

I swing my chair around and leave.

I call my mom, she always makes me feel safe. Ugly cry.

When I get home I can't tell the kids. Gatlinburg in 2 weeks, soccer, no more free lunches at school.

All I do is go to my room and cry, crouched in the corner until the balls of my feet go numb.

Why me?

10 years of experience. I GOT THE DEGREE THEY WANTED. I did what I was told needed to be done and this is what I get.

Monday.

the swing kept its steady high pitch as it rocked back and forth

a cradle for the old

as they sit and wait for death to

slide them out of their mortal shells

and into a better place

a safe place

free of foul influence

where people rock on the balls of their feet

self soothing and

waiting to find

their new rhythm

I felt safe once.

When the summer breeze wrapped itself around us on the old porch swing.

You would slide your hand against mine, lacing our fingers together.

The seasons changed.

Freshly fallen flakes, became balls of snow, taking on the shape of snowmen.

Light kisses on the nose and mittened hands embraced.

Foul weather interrupted.

Spinning, Spiraling, Falling out of love.

A tornado of pain,

Fever pitch.

Over.

And Gone.

Remnants of a shredded soul remain.

The change

in the pitch

of his voice

is the sign

he will soon

take a swing,

and each word

to slide out

his mouth

will have a

rather foul ring;

so pay close

attention,

don't ignore

the writing

on the wall,

stay safe

from his

nefarious

intentions:

in a pinch --

aim for the balls.

You can swing a little higher,

risking the fall

and being called out.

But you pitched your ideas well enough

that no one is safe and your heart

won’t be foul

and when you come down

and the tremors slide out

the stars will be balls you can juggle

and the moon an ice-cream scoop

you may fold yourself into.