Posts for June 23, 2023 (page 3)

i wonder
why you didn’t sign up this year.

maybe you didn’t want to read
what we had to say about you.
couldn’t handle the thought that
we might say something about you

and it might be true.

maybe you didn’t want to have to pretend again,
write more poems about superficial nothing
so that none of us can know how you’re doing.

maybe you don’t want to be reminded of us,
or the person you were to us.
the things you said,
the feelings you left us with.
the aftermath of the damage you caused
then walked away from.

or maybe you just forgot this year.
after all,
i heard that you think you have adhd now.
though, i wonder
if you could say that to my face. 
the thought of watching those words
drip off your tongue
like poison,
watching the expression on your face
beg for my pity
fills me with rage unlike any i’ve known before.
how many years did you spend
misunderstanding me,
only for you to claim my disorder for yourself
once you began to believe that there was something
wrong with you?

but then i wonder,
how could i blame you?
if i was a narcissist
i would wish it was adhd, too.

so maybe you forgot to sign up this year.
but probably not.

i wonder,
did we take away a safe space for you?
the same way you unapologetically made every space unsafe for us?
i wonder how that feels.

i wonder.

Between win and lose,
Opposites confuse their view;
Judges get to choose. 

 (“I can crush it, but that doesn’t deny its existence.” — n.j.t., 1966)    

Marriages are made in Hell,
she said, lighting the cup,
and divorces in Heaven,
dropping hairs of hers
on the burning cup with
a man drawn on it.  

The cup a burnt shell,
the hair slightly singed.
That has deep significance,
she said, blowing the burnt match to the air.
Everything comes to an end
when there’s nothing for the fire to feed on.

My best day, said Rock, was the day a child
said “What a good rock,” and picked me up,
and held me, and hurled me across the playground.

My best day, said Paper, was the day a bride
and groom printed their wedding brochure on me,
and held me, and took their picture with me.

My best day, said Scissors, was the day they
sharpened my blades on a rock and handed me
to a child, to cut paper. I can still hear the ripriprip.

And so I retired
from a work-a-day job, where I
slept through the night, got up with the sun
the rest somewhat measured, and there was fun  

now with no rigid timetable imposed
I am free to read poetry and prose
writing and learning the rules of the word
rhyming or free verse, whatever preferred  

Yet, within this time frame
it is true, I proclaim,  

There are more Doctors and Hospital stays,
scans, blood drawn, and aches with malaise  

Did my exposure to words
possibly take a grave toll
Perhaps ills are about
more than just getting old  

Yesterdays trip to a Nuclear Machine
that took scans of my heart and all in between  

They search for the why
this ticker beats fast
to telltale the reason
so this old heart will last  

The questionnaire had no place to explain
about rattles and chimes that burst into flame  

and exposure to millions of words and phrases
sending hearts travelling through so many mazes  

expressing a feeling or an idea being born
There’s nowhere to write that in a hospital form!  

How I wonder about that Super Sonic Nuclear Machine
How much can it capture, and what does it mean?

It might explain everything
What if they could find
Written within my body divine.

Words that stirred the soul

Verses that make the blood run cold

Rhymes that tear all insides apart

Sonnets that break my fast beating heart

“Get to the forest and breathe out,” my son says,
but instead, my aging legs curl in fetal position,
and I weep for everything I have no control over,
like a loved one dying, a friend’s imprisonment,
fear, depression, and world news, blood pressure
rising, anxiety pounding in head and chest, 
with nothing but trees to keep me from drowning,
and the constant downpour of rain to hold me.  

for AnR

Ocean to ocean 
he loves you. Pacific, At-
lantic. To home surf.

Some days, I am just water: sans weight and shape to favor buoyancy.

Zip me into my skin
Make me go unnoticed
Unheard.

Let the blood on my hands stop gushing.
Stitch me up with Candy floss.
Merri-go-round of Life.

Peel me like an orange.
Rip off the layers with your fingernails.
Too sweet.

Look in all the windows,
listen to the birds,
count the fireflies: four, five, there goes a rabbit.
Did you know I used to live in one of these houses?
I’d know it from the inside, if I saw it.
Watch the rain in the headlights, streetlights, nightlights
Nine PM hanging laundry, hemlock tree, moth in flight
Man on the phone, man on a bike,
then no one.
Red maple, silver maple, cricket song, when did it start?
Walk for miles and miles, no one can stop me,
not even the rain: so soft feel it on my fingers and my neck
10 PM shadows, no sign of the moon
Dog barks once for the fireworks and again for good measure
Too hot/too cold,
couldn’t be a gunshot must’ve been a firecracker
Night air on bare skin, pull up my jacket, walk for hours, get nowhere, turn around, 
go home.