To My Birthmom,
Why did you carry me? Mrs. Haskell tries to tell me you are a bad lady. Do you remember Mrs. Haskell? She helped you find a mommy and daddy for me. She tells me you smoked cigarettes and took medicine the doctor didn't give you, and that hurt me when I was in your belly. Mommy was upset when Mrs. Haskell said you were a bad lady. She took me aside and gave me a big hug. She told me you were human, you made mistakes, but you always loved me. I asked Mommy how she knew and she said;
"Your birthmom carried you." I have seen the news once or twice. Mommy and Daddy don't know, but sometimes after they kiss me goodnight I sneak downstairs and watch the news from behind the sofa. I know some people don't want their babies, so doctors take them from their bellies. I don't know why you kept me in your belly if you're supposed to be a bad lady. Mrs. Haskell says you gave me up, but Mommy says you gave me life. Mommy is always going to be my Mommy but you're the only one who could be my mom.
I am glad you decided to be my mom.
Even if I don't understand.
I love you.
Headlights
Cold of winter
lapping up the moonlight
brick walls surround
blocking out the starshine
here we go
say goodbye
our moment has arrived
daredevil slow
frozen in the headlights
stuck downtown
south of me
you are running
fast and free
tonight we will dance
on potholed pavement
and streetlight glare
hold me close
the night is young
but we are old
keep the hope
and may the dreams
we
seek
unfold
in the cold of winter
warmth of snow
the night is young
but we are old
keep the hope.
#poetry#hope#young#old
Wanderlust
Cincinnati thunder rolls
on the corners of my skin
this heart that beats
to the beat of England
whispers Italy within
got no money to waste
nor time to spend
not for mountains
or beaches or deserts
just sit tight
in this little old town
in our little house
with the small minded neighbors
who know all our whereabouts
there is
no sign of danger
in this well known
i cannot stay here
if i never leave
i will never grow.
#smalltown#traveler#poetry#home
To Lose
Aunt Lisa left Gregor home with Floxie, the demon cat, and a pot of potato soup. A light drizzle had started up, a storm thundering in from the east, but she promised she’d be back with cornbread mix in two quick shakes. Whatever that meant.
Gregor was hard on his aunt, but seriously what kind of person leaves their nephew home alone days after his parents dissappeared? Plus his aunt collected taxidermy. Who hangs dead animals as decoration? And there was the slight problem Aunt Lisa called Floxie, that Gregor justly dubbed the Devil.
Our subject is the sneaky orange feline whose every action Aunt Lisa finds adorable. The demon cat perched on the stuffed bodies of his fellow cat family to clean himself, which Gregor found highly disrespectful; and sometimes at night when Gregor paused while getting into bed, Floxie would stick her head out from under the bedskirt and bite his ankles.
Now Gregor stirred the soup while Floxie napped on one of the stuffed lions. Outside there was a boom, and the power flicked off. Transformer blew, Gregor thought as he shivered. As soon as the power went off, it felt like the cold immediately seeped in.
Bah-boom, bah-boom.
What was that?
Before Gregor realized, he was under his bed hiding, just like in elementary school when the branches scratching against the window sounded just like a murderer trying to break in.
Drip drip drip.
Somewhere a leak has penetrated the protection of the roof. But underneath his bed, Gregor believes he is safe. Ignoring Floxie’s yellow gaze, Gregor digs in the pocket of his father’s moth eaten sweater for a granola bar.
After he’s eaten he lays his head down, just for a second. As he drifts to sleep, he barely notices the absense of Floxie.
He awoke with creases from the wooden planks etched into his cheeks, and covered in a cold sweat.
Drip drip drip drip.
Gregor slid out from under the musty bed and into the crisp air. His belly rumbled, and he crept down the hallway, his thoughts centered on the potato soup and whether or not it was still edible.
Drip drip. Drip drip drip.
Gregor froze. The leak was coming from the bathroom. Helpful as ever, he ventured in to turn off the sink. But the sink wasn’t on. A quick look in the mirror confirmed the dissarrayed state of his hair. Ah, well.
He pulled back the shower curtain, but the faucet wasn’t leaking. There, hung on the shower head like a discarded towel, hung the demon cats body.
Written on the white tiled wall, in Floxie’s own blood;
You will be next.
Miles away from home with a backseat full of groceries, Aunt Lisa taps her fingernails on the wheel, and hopes that Gregor is alright. She’s called City Maintenace, and the drowsy voice on the other end of the phone informed her they couldn’t get a tree removal crew out until morning. So Lisa sat and stared at the fallen oak that blocks her path.
Tomorrow morning she’ll zip home and throw open the door, snapping her stale cinnamon gum as she calls out for Gregor and Floxie. Neither will answer, they will have already dissappeared without a trace. Aunt Lisa will be all alone. Until she finds The Gift.
The End
A photograph of you and me
fades softly from memory
skipping here and there
farther does it go
dementia seem it may
numbs my aging brain
steals such a petty dream
of my ring engraved upon your finger
color captured you and me
for a pain filled infinity
our beginning was the end.
#poetry #heartbreak #lies #loss
***
When your clock goes tick
mine goes tock
and the shopkeeper sighs
cause you and i
do not chime right
covered in dust
the broken pieces
who learned how to fall
before we ever flew
covered in dust
mysteries mistress entrusts
the crack ups we hold
in secret
as the shopkeeper sighs
you go tick
and i go tock
we would never change
our lives as one broken clock.