(no subject)
Revision of some poems. This one originated last year, but much has been altered.
For My Mother
I remember the sting of the needle,
White clouds painted on blue ceiling
Plastic mask on my face, world pulsing
Through a narrowing lens
I remember shock, awakening
Premature and sudden
Fleshy slivers bathed red
Dull pain , IV bites
Dizziness…buzzing
My mannequin body
Rearranged on pale sheets
Could only spit nonsense
Out with bile, tragic rainbow
Fresh dry blanket,
For a frightened child, your baby
Imperfect, a little broken.
Living probe to test, cut to probe
Tell me I am still your baby, mama
You held my hair, wrapped me in
Good words you gathered from
Miss Nurse or Dear Doctor
(Now, wait -
Patiently.
Sit by the phone
Daily.)
To see what color tubes turned
This time, purple death or yellow faith.
They tell me accept the illness
I never listen, paint with blood of all colors
And say, look - a portrait of how brave mama is.
OLT.
_____________________________________
Too Young
The hour falls in my lap
In halves and quarters
Where memory refracts
Dawn’s stale breath
Pulls at my butts
Gnaws at the eyes.
Salt water freezes
Half down cheek
For my loss, too.
In some living room
In some pallid old house
A fire rages,
And all I can think is
That fire is a survivor
My friend, Teala, isn’t.
A dumb child,
Unwanted, took a life
Smoke in the wind.
OLT.
For My Mother
I remember the sting of the needle,
White clouds painted on blue ceiling
Plastic mask on my face, world pulsing
Through a narrowing lens
I remember shock, awakening
Premature and sudden
Fleshy slivers bathed red
Dull pain , IV bites
Dizziness…buzzing
My mannequin body
Rearranged on pale sheets
Could only spit nonsense
Out with bile, tragic rainbow
Fresh dry blanket,
For a frightened child, your baby
Imperfect, a little broken.
Living probe to test, cut to probe
Tell me I am still your baby, mama
You held my hair, wrapped me in
Good words you gathered from
Miss Nurse or Dear Doctor
(Now, wait -
Patiently.
Sit by the phone
Daily.)
To see what color tubes turned
This time, purple death or yellow faith.
They tell me accept the illness
I never listen, paint with blood of all colors
And say, look - a portrait of how brave mama is.
OLT.
_____________________________________
Too Young
The hour falls in my lap
In halves and quarters
Where memory refracts
Dawn’s stale breath
Pulls at my butts
Gnaws at the eyes.
Salt water freezes
Half down cheek
For my loss, too.
In some living room
In some pallid old house
A fire rages,
And all I can think is
That fire is a survivor
My friend, Teala, isn’t.
A dumb child,
Unwanted, took a life
Smoke in the wind.
OLT.