chosen
for a dress,
sleeveless;
patched in prints of red,
stiffer
watching
before
washing:
stand in
breezeways,
curtain
staid.
interloped itself upon
mess dominant left handing
single thought: "go to the ant, thou,
sluggard, consider her ways and be wise."
quiet, eyes watching
her, hand turning, her path
fast finding steady walking where
six feet found their place, moving eventually
two,
the
ground.
summer strong, smiling.
while eye, my waffle full
of coffee cold, almond, low-
fat, I chose.
Preferring chalk to lipstick.
What a path to walk! Chalk hand secure, slip-less
weight arms length, to heart and back
through air, growing the structures in
side, dormant unless awakened early by
late lifting, day chalk steady, smiling, this
woman, strong.
left in a twelve ounce glass of liquid. I had
not considered grinding pills, instead
of, risk by risk, swallowing them into numb
intelligence deciding for me moments ago
this was a good idea. Inspired, I carry
the handful of years to the basement, hunt for a pestle;
I have a mortar, the bowl, smallest, nesting
three cold dependable stone, pour-spout
soft around the lip. Not finding a pestle,
I choose a rock, cold and smooth enough
for grinding pills, years into powder that will
be swallowed easily, I know, pompous ways,
knowing to depend upon the prior numb
intellect assuring me this is a good act,
a motion improved upon other less stable
tries. Not too much risk, I think, steady
grinding pills like chemists of another time,
proud, so like my other self watching
disbelieving she will be so satisfied
with new ways, smoother grains, slipping
through her diet pepsi. Swirling by hand
the glass entire, she mixes all her month's
supply like pollen falls in a day, murky
sneezing pain away, and finally sips.
Drawing in two gulps, and leaving the other
half in the glass, she waits. i saw her lie
down, felt her become me again, less
numb to the earlier intelligence sobbing over
insipid thought: that sob would end before
fearful sanity leads me to call my mother,
speak generally of my destructive patterns;
"What have you done?" she said. And I, feeling
change immediately, speak clear as Regret is able;
assessing general words, ask, will she
support my overcoming this wrecking ball that turns
one off so another will attempt to logically unplug
the air in me, this air in me, that is.
I bless the days we did not play
did not chase each other into the sea
inviting me into your arms, your strength,
my womb full of child and my arms full of joyful
child. You played and raced with other family members,
had to be coaxed two: "Walk with me." And walk we would, silent
while crab-scudding our flashlights into other active worlds nighttime,
clams digging away from the light, squeals from others, and "What's that?"
We go there and watch, see what others leaping into and around and
uncovering surf's grand oddities. We look at the moon and walk
more, looking back, see how far away our home and
family, turn around, following the sea surf's
lapping to the left or right of
our walking.