The Wizard, Hitchcock, and Bridges
My brother feared the Wicked Witch,
hid behind a brown naugahyde chair
in the living toom of the single-wide
trailer we called home
Covered his eyes when she appeared
in a flash of flame, and cackling smoke.
Breathed a great sigh when she melted
and was gone with a splash of water
and a song
My sister feared birds for thirty years
after watching Hitchcock’s little flick.
Until one day, she started feeding them
in her backyard, and choked back her
fright of wings and beaks one
bag of seed at a time
My mother told me I once feared bridges
That crossing large bodies of water made
me duck in the Chrysler’s floorboard until
we had reached the other side
Somewhere, the memory of swaying
and drowning disappeared with
every bridge I burned amidst
cackling smoke and flapping of wings
3 thoughts on "The Wizard, Hitchcock, and Bridges"
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Simply wonderful! Beautiful imagery with a touch of humor–like when your brother “Breathed a great sigh when she melted / and was gone with a splash of water / and a song.”
It all comes together so well in the last stanza.
And it’s great that those fears are not merely dead but really, most sincerely dead!
As always, I love your kind words.🌹
Ah! Wonderful. I’ve long had a fear of bridges above vast acres of water. The Mackinac Bridge was agonizing every time we drove across to Canada. Even the big bridge on Interstate 64 between the 2 Frankfort exits produces anxiety.
I love how you pulled the poem together in the last stanza. Nice!