the Dawning
The End of All, Gigs, Venues, Cafes, Films
Jams, Parks, Beaches, Hikes,
Restaurants, Shows, Friendships
After I had already lost
Everyone
No Center, no Ideas,
Certainly no room for me except
a parking space, a chair
a drawer, a small studio there
Invisible
small
diminished,
so as not to incur
wrath
or jealousy
Not knowing how to drive to a place,
to not be welcome,
in your home, your life, your bed.
I slept with one eye open
How do I say what happened
to those who thought
we had a thing?
He won’t tell me why
he pulled away
like Lucy and the football
again and again
except to recount the story of how he
Almost
didn’t get born because
his father
Almost
escaped the wedding.
Like I did . . .
He had a habit of getting Yelly
while I sat with
Head cocked
a puppy, trying to sort
word from meaning
a language I don’t understand
While he held a
rolled-up newspaper
behind his back
Sent from my <“m~ fone
Dead Squirrel Wrap
I found a dead squirrel, a red squirrel
hands curled, a girl
feet up and tail bedraggled–caught my breath
then, in sadness,
put on another pair of gloves-
not a plastic bag!
a gag
reflex,
revulsion
fear of touching
a dead thing
a sad picture–
A newspaper?
a paper bag, smaller,
just her size.
A tool? No-
turned her over and felt the weight to ground myself
picked her up, a sleeping face
I slipped her into the
brown paper pillowcase-
inside a small, squirrel-sized shopping bag,
plastic and angel-white–
“thank you Have a Nice Day” in red
carried her to the trash bin;
blessed her life+
sent her on her way.
Batcactus's Blog 