Posts for June 27, 2023 (page 2)

I grow weary of nails down the chalkboard of my brain
Internal wailing shipwrecked in bottled tears
Oppressive heat of resentful impotence and angry fears
Oscillating between desperation for a sympathetic shoulder
And intentional isolating in my impatience and introversion

And so I shall try to point the compass of my mind toward
Counting the day’s blessings

My teen’s legs draped over mine
Reclining in comfort and quiet
Taking a minute to laze our way into the day

The simplicity of the whole family in attendance
Around the table for a morning meal

The surprising almost-pleasure and relative calm
Of a new discovered freeway-free backroad route
To ease unnecessary pressure in a necessary trip.

Banter with a delightful medical staff
Who encourage petting of a giant puppy
Offer weighty book recommendations with a side of silliness
Note chosen pronouns sans prompting
Wrapping skills in finesse and thoroughness

Salt and butter play on taste buds
Fingers casually touch over popped corn

A cool drink of water in the cool of a summer night
Comforting drone of evening insects
Help steady the rise and fall of my chest.

(A radical erasure of “Two Girls Ago” by Lucie Brock-Broido)

     exquisite

                                    wren                at dawn

                                                              I          loved

                                         on the way home                        dark

                    weeping

                    flipping back 

        kissing in the field 

no         miss

no threat                                    yet 

I find myself leaving a trail of opinions

like leaves turned gold that have fallen

one after the other, a shower of them

letting go with almost no resistance

making a pattern against the flat ground

I talk more with others than I used to

some leaves just fly straight off and land…others swirl

bounce off other leaves                summersault away

blow skyward        travel long distances          vanish

But I know they will at some point subside

succumb to earth, decompose away

from their lofty impressions first made

Not like when young with those green thoughts

new sprouts ideas not fully formed

fleeting thoughts I kept to myself

But they too are now gone

Now, the way I see it

I know I cannot keep everything

I know I will not keep even what I love

I best to let go and so

it goes like that

with many things

leaving

Starting over
like I’m fresh out
of college and dipping 
my toe in the adult pool.
Nearly eight years ago
I bought this house,
left chaos and damage 
behind to raise my
daughters in peace.
Since then I have worked, 
parented, gardened, 
woodworked, caregiven 
for elderly parents, paid bills,
 the number one responsible 
grown-up. 
Now, I’m rewriting my
future. Making plans 
without asking permission. 
Suddenly I feel the stress 
of a teenager given 
too much freedom 
and no boundaries. 

KW  6/27/23

It’s a summer night,
I’m nineteen years old
and catching fireflies.
Their lights don’t shine
as brightly as they did
when I was little,
and it feels much easier
to let them go.

Sometimes I wonder,
will it ever be the same again?

There’s something about this time of year 
That gives a sense of edge in the air 
Everything is heated yet recoiled 
Like a snake in an outhouse 
That has been waiting to shed its skin 
There’s no sign that it’s been there 
Just the leftover skin 
And smell remains aloof 
Laying low in the corner somewhere 
Waiting…..
for just the right time to strike 
Like most snakes 
When strikin’ seems appealing 
You’ll never see it coming 
Swift…. smooth… suave 
Snakes just being snakes. 

Flagstones snake through moss carpeted paths
and my body hovers above,
takes imaginary steps.
Enchanted memories
of garden alees,
Austen, Brontë,
wuthering
thoughts shake
me. 

The clock is ticking one second slower each day. It’s ten minutes behind now. We’re ten years behind now. The same sequence of events as last week. Now play it back, louder. Your argument is invalid. Your argument never existed in the first place. You bit your tongue too many times and now it’s bleeding. The clock is the same color as your eyes. You’re both watching me. I’m talking too much. I can’t understand what I’m saying. Sounds like a prayer being uttered over and over. This again. You’re no longer listening. No such thing as comfortable silence in this house. A book is opened to the last page. The ending is the same as it was yesterday. You don’t remember the beginning. You take my word for it. The fireplace has never been used because you’re tired of putting out fires. My smoke signals go unanswered. I regret asking. I ask again anyway. The book is burning. The curtains are pulled shut so the sun can’t see us. Call it shame. You haven’t taken your clock eyes off of me. I’m reciting the same prayer in reverse now. It smells acrid in here. I forgot what you look like when you cry. You forgot how to cry. We’ve done this song and dance before. You know how to sing. You won’t sing for me. I can’t hear you over the clock. You can’t hear me over the book. The book can’t hear the clock over the smell of the smoke. The sun can’t see us ticking one second slower for every argument we didn’t have and now we’re all just passing time

Pulling and tugging

       Roots unmovable

Clinging on for dear life

                Letting go means death

Holding on, the vines cover the ground

                                    Grass no longer seen
               
                            The vines were left to run free

            They were in control

   But out of control

No limits

No boundaries

No one to tame them

                                        I am in control

                                                            I will tame them

They will have boundaries

                                    They will have limits

The vines will no longer be allowed to run free

                    I will break the vine’s hold

The grass will again be seen

The vines can’t hold onto life

I pulled and I tugged

Their roots released

                                             I won my Vine fight.

we stood in the drive
watching a satellite 
hurling across dark sky 
making no noise 

while the neighborhood
still hot from the day
murmured the songs
of the living
transmitting through 
thier illuminated windows
end of day routines 

I can already see
the end of the summer 
in the summer haze thick 
between the trees

even before the first 
firework has sent 
it’s colors across the sky