Poem: Mother Mary Sings to Me [SPN, Dean Winchester]
Title: Mother Mary Sings to Me
Summary: Dean develops his own superstitions
Fandom: Supernatural
Character/s: Dean Winchester; the Winchester family
Timeline: Set before the series, begins sticking with early [primarily Season One] canon
Dedication: Written for nerfgunqueen, on the event of her natal day.
A/N: All titles swiped from The Beatles, “Let It Be”; riffing off the prompt ‘copper’. Unbeta'ed.
~~~
Mother Mary Sings to Me
I. In Times of Trouble
“I’m sorry.”
A smear of ash,
dust pulling moisture
from tongue
stealing words
from cheek
leaving grief
crystallized.
Ashes -
His Father’s boot prints on the stairs
heavy tread lined in black.
Dust -
memory
that blows away
when the front door
shuts.
Condolences are cold.
Intangibles, useless
though
each recitation
of sympathy’s litany
strikes against His Father,
lingering embers turning
cold
grey
turning him to stone.
Dean wants to shout,
to send these strangers
made sharp by grief
away.
But he can’t speak.
Instead spends a week
with his hands caught
into fists.
Knuckle bones white
Nails marking red,
coppery slick
along his palms.
Fists,
until His Father lifts
his eyes from earth
boot treads lined in black
and sees.
“Watch out for your brother, Dean.”
He says, and sets Sam in his arms.
The blanket’s soft,
Sam is warm.
Dean holds on
tight as he dares.
II. Speaking Words of Wisdom
Superstitions:
Dean collects pennies,
carries them in his jeans.
They weigh down his pocket,
and he wears down his cuffs.
Only coins from 1983 count.
Superstitions are just
stories, time worn
tarnished through touch.
Sometimes it's hard to read
past patina
only 1983 counts
but
His Father looks
and looks and
so Dean looks too.
By the time Dean's ten,
he can spot a coin
half buried
under a bush at night.
But he's careful,
won’t
break her back
step on cracks in the sidewalk.
III. Broken-hearted People Living
Digging between seat cushions for toll money.
Silver pays the way.
Copper gets left behind.
Dropped on the sidewalk,
left on windowsills;
Dean can't decide if
people don't care,
or if they are losing
abandoning
pieces of themselves.
There might be other reasons.
One thing he's learned;
Death takes its payment in increments.
He saves
found copper, scoops up
a handful left
scattered
around a parking meter.
Bright seed for carrion crows
But blushes, straightens narrow
shoulders when
he feels His Father
look his way.
Dean knows
he should leave them behind
he's fifteen, too old
to weigh his steps down.
He pockets the pennies anyway.
They jingle together
sing travel songs
against his fingers.
IV. Though They May Be Parted
Dean starts to forget.
Wakes to cold sweat,
the echo of his own gasps
loud in a hotel room.
Laughter echoes back
from the room next door.
He can't remember the sound of his mother's laughter.
These days it seems Dean
is always looking for the gleam
of a smile,
of gold hair
of what remains.
Still half-mired
in sleep, he reaches past
wallet, phone, keys;
pushes coins
together.
An old wives tale, heard years ago:
found pennies are messages from the dead.
A toll reversed;
no passage to and from,
not a silver ferryman’s fee,
worn on the eyes
but the edge of letters,
vowel curve,
consonant whispers-
If arranged correctly
Dean thinks, perhaps
His dreams
memories
will sharpen
and the scratch
and mutter at windows
in dreams, only in dreams
will become clear;
a companion voice in solitude.
V. Still a Light that Shines
Take a penny, give a penny.
Dean leaves coins
in every penny dish he finds.
Diners,
convenience stores,
gas stations.
It’s automatic ritual
customized sign of the cross
a subtle rosary rolling,
spooling out along the road.
Take a penny
Mutable currency,
leave change
take a charge-
currents shaped
into circles
linking connections broken
by distance.
Leave a penny
He checks, re-checks:
Copper in his pocket
Coins in the Impala’s ashtray
One in his bag
One in Sam’s pack
Two with his Dad.
Tenuous but true,
Conductors
Picking up signals across the miles.
When it comes to family,
Dean feels it’s always better to be safe;
then you’re never sorry.
Summary: Dean develops his own superstitions
Fandom: Supernatural
Character/s: Dean Winchester; the Winchester family
Timeline: Set before the series, begins sticking with early [primarily Season One] canon
Dedication: Written for nerfgunqueen, on the event of her natal day.
A/N: All titles swiped from The Beatles, “Let It Be”; riffing off the prompt ‘copper’. Unbeta'ed.
~~~
Mother Mary Sings to Me
I. In Times of Trouble
“I’m sorry.”
A smear of ash,
dust pulling moisture
from tongue
stealing words
from cheek
leaving grief
crystallized.
Ashes -
His Father’s boot prints on the stairs
heavy tread lined in black.
Dust -
memory
that blows away
when the front door
shuts.
Condolences are cold.
Intangibles, useless
though
each recitation
of sympathy’s litany
strikes against His Father,
lingering embers turning
cold
grey
turning him to stone.
Dean wants to shout,
to send these strangers
made sharp by grief
away.
But he can’t speak.
Instead spends a week
with his hands caught
into fists.
Knuckle bones white
Nails marking red,
coppery slick
along his palms.
Fists,
until His Father lifts
his eyes from earth
boot treads lined in black
and sees.
“Watch out for your brother, Dean.”
He says, and sets Sam in his arms.
The blanket’s soft,
Sam is warm.
Dean holds on
tight as he dares.
II. Speaking Words of Wisdom
Superstitions:
Dean collects pennies,
carries them in his jeans.
They weigh down his pocket,
and he wears down his cuffs.
Only coins from 1983 count.
Superstitions are just
stories, time worn
tarnished through touch.
Sometimes it's hard to read
past patina
only 1983 counts
but
His Father looks
and looks and
so Dean looks too.
By the time Dean's ten,
he can spot a coin
half buried
under a bush at night.
But he's careful,
won’t
break her back
step on cracks in the sidewalk.
III. Broken-hearted People Living
Digging between seat cushions for toll money.
Silver pays the way.
Copper gets left behind.
Dropped on the sidewalk,
left on windowsills;
Dean can't decide if
people don't care,
or if they are losing
abandoning
pieces of themselves.
There might be other reasons.
One thing he's learned;
Death takes its payment in increments.
He saves
found copper, scoops up
a handful left
scattered
around a parking meter.
Bright seed for carrion crows
But blushes, straightens narrow
shoulders when
he feels His Father
look his way.
Dean knows
he should leave them behind
he's fifteen, too old
to weigh his steps down.
He pockets the pennies anyway.
They jingle together
sing travel songs
against his fingers.
IV. Though They May Be Parted
Dean starts to forget.
Wakes to cold sweat,
the echo of his own gasps
loud in a hotel room.
Laughter echoes back
from the room next door.
He can't remember the sound of his mother's laughter.
These days it seems Dean
is always looking for the gleam
of a smile,
of gold hair
of what remains.
Still half-mired
in sleep, he reaches past
wallet, phone, keys;
pushes coins
together.
An old wives tale, heard years ago:
found pennies are messages from the dead.
A toll reversed;
no passage to and from,
not a silver ferryman’s fee,
worn on the eyes
but the edge of letters,
vowel curve,
consonant whispers-
If arranged correctly
Dean thinks, perhaps
His dreams
memories
will sharpen
and the scratch
and mutter at windows
in dreams, only in dreams
will become clear;
a companion voice in solitude.
V. Still a Light that Shines
Take a penny, give a penny.
Dean leaves coins
in every penny dish he finds.
Diners,
convenience stores,
gas stations.
It’s automatic ritual
customized sign of the cross
a subtle rosary rolling,
spooling out along the road.
Take a penny
Mutable currency,
leave change
take a charge-
currents shaped
into circles
linking connections broken
by distance.
Leave a penny
He checks, re-checks:
Copper in his pocket
Coins in the Impala’s ashtray
One in his bag
One in Sam’s pack
Two with his Dad.
Tenuous but true,
Conductors
Picking up signals across the miles.
When it comes to family,
Dean feels it’s always better to be safe;
then you’re never sorry.