Wino
They ask me what you do for living.
I reply simply, “he drinks.”
They nod uncomfortably.
Their faces tell me they regret asking.
The Storm God took
a mortal man as lover.
By all accounts he was
average. Nothing exceptional.
He liked to count, to catalogue,
collect. He inventoried
every part of her, each ridge
of her teeth, all the folds
of her flesh. It took his
whole life to number
the drops of her from one single
suprise summer rainstorm.
He liked to say she must
have known the exact moment
she had slipped from his mind.
So if you are at the park
on an otherwise perfectly
sunny day, no chance of rain
when a drop lands on your back
runs down your hand, then more
spit and splatter until you have
to seek shelter or get soaked
it’s a blessing for your love
life, a reminder to think
of all the parts of your lover
and strive to know them all.
Devastatingly beautiful
brown silky locks bounce
like pillowy springs
upon her tween shoulders
a depressingly dutiful
mother preparing to pounce
like a leopard-y thing
words like crushing boulders
please shower, child
she says
be sure to clean your ears
her eyes secretly roll
the kid becomes riled
filled with dread
laborious measure nears
hygiene a distant goal
filthy little trolls
those tweens
testing
mom’s patience
and
everything
in between
to offer up our fragile
pumping hearts
into the unsteady hands of another
no guarantee that they know what to do
in fact none of us do
we try all the same
we will succeed
or fail most exquisitely
I am not underwater,
but I’m holding
my breath.
I’m not waiting for
anything specific –
maybe even
nothing at all.
I keep looking around:
blue sky,
green grass,
blooming flowers.
Nothing looks different.
The mail comes
every day;
I get packages
and bills
and flyers
just like before.
I take walks
and read
to my children.
Cook dinner
and do the dishes.
Laundry is infinite.
My head hums with
undercurrents
of the news
and snippets
of headlines
replay
as I fold towels.
It’s all the same,
but it’s not.
Routine daily
chores
line up and I check
them off until I
question,
“Why bother?”
and then I lay
on the couch
and stream Netflix
for hours
while my kids
eat chips and
video chat friends
and my husband
works remotely
from our bedroom.
It’s like my life
was taken
out of context.
I’m at home,
but I’m lost.
I can’t go back
to the world
I knew
how to
navigate,
so now I must
rewrite my
programming
to fit something
no one can
define
or predict.
And while I
make pancakes
and cut grass
and water plants,
I must also make
contingency
plans in my head.
I’m standing
here
beside my
lilac bush
and the creek
and my front porch,
but my mind can’t
wrap around
what’s happening
beyond my
front yard.
“For my ally is the force
and a powerful ally it is
life creates it
makes it grow
its energy surrounds us and binds us
luminous beings are we
not this crude matter'”- Yoda, Star Wars:The Empire Strikes Back
Before I met you
the closest companionship came to me
chasing black cats
and wiley coyotes
inbetween staring contests, around my barracks lot
I never caught them
Then you showed up
A full grown Russian Blue alley cat with anvil-cloud grey shimmering coat
perched on my window sill
looking over my shoulder
while I watch Star Wars
unafraid and really digging “The Empire Strikes Back”
It’s at the scene where Yoda explains to Luke
“you must unlearn what you have learned”
it’s March, quarantine is in session
so I opened the back sliding door and let you mozy on in
you immediately scanned the area and went to work mousing the perimeter
yeah, you’re a keeper
flash forward a week
the property owner decided they dont want you here
even though the management told me otherwise
and hell I gave it a shot after I got you yours
Got you your name your tags your chip your flea meds
and I posted your best tinder poses on the local rehoming network
but if it wasnt allergies that had folks reconsidering
it was the dolts hitting me up out of the blue wanting you
you! to be their outdoor cat even though thier loved ones were deathly allergic
No
Alamogordo law says you are I are each other’s
I say you’re mine
Hell even my roomate says you’re mine
and as you wake me up every morning
walking all over my body meowing into my face
leading me to your food bowl scenting me as I walk
following me around the house, my little shadow
kneading the blankets beside me at the end of the day
The force has bound us
you’ve made me grow
my shadow.
the wrong stream of words
flows in through my eyes
latches onto a memory
before lashing my heart
a thin strip of blood
forms over tender scar
a small drop spilling
turns into a storm
the little storm rages
as best as it can
lightning through synapse
tries to short out my mind
but there’s no shortage here
of fortune and blessing
I stand beside grace
my invincible star
the star far outshines
every memory you left
you no longer have air
to fit under your wings
the rainbow she weaves
chases all pain away
her smile’s a better place
stripping words of their meaning
