Posts for June 21, 2024 (page 2)

Wouldn’t it have been cool
to go to space in our 20’s,
before babies and medical conditions
that required constant monitoring.
Like this late onset diabetes
hitting home at 30,
Nnot the MBP pick after the World Series,
Casey jones swinging away home.
Every step, monitored, measured.
Every bite of food-stuff
rehydrated after 10 years of sleep,
every minute of every day
given back with micro doses
of insulin and every other drug
meant to extend life.
It would have been fun to go to Pluto
when I was on my 20’s,
before all of this. 

I was there when…
my cousin Ron raced to the top 
of the old pine tree on papaw’s land
I really thought we were on top of the world. 

I was there when…
when my best friend Helen 
popped the clutch in her 1991 Cavelier,
skipped a gear and almost killed me 
stopping just before we skidded into a mailbox. 

I was there when, 
my grandfather would hang Christmas lights 
every year in Van Lear Junction until he couldn’t
the cancer done rattled too deep into his bones
“Mert is that you?”He asked me looking up at me 
as I’d helped to bring him back to life one last time.

I was there when,
my children took their first breaths,steps, achievements,
as we gathered around many a grave to say goodbye 
through laughter, tears, shouting, recipes of broken childhoods
sharing a fresh batch of oysters with our children in the ocean air
a road trip with no destination, unmarked territory and full tank of gas 
I was there when life was happening and thought no one was watching.

with red hot joints
yellowing lungs  
alkaline heavy sweat 
I can see this gate 
that needs to be held open
someone coming down 
a over saturated green hill 

when I come to
then television has
went dark 
the cats slumbering 
beside me 

but I can’t shake 
the panic of
holding open 
a deep yellow gate 
for someone 
I don’t even know 

            In an air conditioned room

i told myself i’d never love anyone who didn’t like joni mitchell
—-you didn’t like joni mitchell,
& you left me to wail,
wounded me knowing the blow was fatal—-
you didn’t like joni mitchell

JUST BEFORE OUR LOVE GOT LOST…

i survived
my therapist told me nothing was being threatened
or harmed
i just hurt
i stitched the fatal wound

YOU SAID, I AM AS CONSTANT AS A NORTHERN STAR

i can see what you mean about love being trite:
it’s a stupid word to describe how i feel
when you know me
when i’ve never felt safer & it’s all right
when you finally sing “a case of you,” looking right at me

My nephew’s got a Summer Bucket List and was anxious to scratch off “Uncles Ham & Bill Sleepover Party” before June had fully slipped by. I’m chronically underemployed and love to party, but my brother works weekends. So it came to pass that some overheated Thursday, the summer before fifth grade, my 30-something brother and I took our 10-year-old nephew to an old house primed for new memories, and stayed up all night (til about 10 o’ clock).

And lo, cheese pizza and Nintendo hit just as hard at 37 as they did in ’97. 

your fancy words won’t bring back my mountaintops
or fill your home with solar light neither

I am driving to visit friends.
The phone rings and it is my sister
letting me know that my oldest aunt
has passed, at home with her daughter nearby.
I knew this was coming,
but each time another elderly
relative dies I am reminded
that we are becoming the elderly
and that my days with my father
are numbered, though I am
so lucky to have him at 92.
Eleanor, his oldest sister,
such a loving aunt, so many
birthday cakes, homemade pies
and hand knitted gifs.
Every trip to New York
meant spending time with her
and my cousins, her children.
So many memories of her home,
of her stories of my father and
their childhood in Troy
or Snyder’s Corners
or at their camp on Burden Lake.
I am fortunate to have such rich
childhood memories of being loved
by those who came before me.

6/21/24
KW

In the cool of the evening,

a distant “coo” breaks the silence,

spreading a presence of peace

throughout the valley.  Yet, over

yonder hills war rages, corruption

crushes the human spirit,

and tyranny triumphs like

an Olympic athlete.  Doves fly

overhead, and are shot down.

People cheer, but the “coo”

crumbles before our eyes.

We lay a dollar in the offering

plate, and sing, “O, How I Love

Jesus” to ease our consciences.

We listen.  Silence.  Guns fire in

the distance.

Last night, I decided
I was done with my hair.
It was too long, too scraggly, and
inching into the crevices of all
I tried to think about.
Whether it was down,
pulled back, or in a bun,
it didn’t matter.
Suddenly, it was everything
wrong with my life, and
it had to go.
I finally learned from past
adventures not to grab
scissors and do it myself
in the urgency of feelings.
Instead, I pulled at it,
tied it up, tucked it back, and
waited until I finished work today to
drive to a walk-in salon in town and
have several inches chopped,
to free my head from its weight,
to take a deep breath and
move on.