Is this anything?

So, yes, still a hiatus, but I dared myself to finally hit publish on a draft that I’ve been sitting on for a month or so now. Be warned: Poetry ahead.


I’m going to send this far afield of what I usually post.

Way back when, I was the high schooler who secretly wrote a lot of embarrassing poetry.

Every few years the urge bubbles back up. Today was that day and I was feeling a lot of incomprehensible feelings about motherhood. I’m going to save this in drafts for awhile because while it feels cathartic now, I’ve always been of two minds sharing what I write. One of those minds craves the potential for any feedback whatsoever. The other mind dies of mortification at the very thought of anyone else ever reading it and feels so vulnerable it would sooner see me strip naked and walk down the street reciting my social security number.

So maybe you’ll see this, maybe you won’t, but here it is:

Buzz

A dog’s tongue across an empty bowl
I have nothing to give
Plaintive eyes and a resigned sigh
There is no time for long walks now

I am overcommitted
Wounded and wordless in the aftermath of
that commonplace miracle
with each new soul
I buy myself time
From the second you writhed into the light
I began to shrink again
each desolate night I still find myself
humming with life
and sustaining this new one
A hive of bees in my breast
Milk or honey?
A symbiosis in these still hours

You shit marigolds
I shush shush shush
not in admonition
but instinct
to simulate that nest of rushing blood and muffled music
where you were
dividing and growing in the red dark

I buzz with potential energy
You hang on for dear life
And how dear is it

A box of mementos I meant to organize and label
The mylar balloon
And the footprints and the
purple lightning etched on my thighs
Will not keep the memories fresh
Nor slow the pace of your eventual leaving

These days will fade and feel
like they had been someone else’s
Turning magazine pages in the waiting room
and wondering when it will begin

From my grandparents’ ashes
My garden grows
And we write our own rules
though we still follow theirs
The ruts in an old road catching our tires

She came to me in a dream
disappointed as ever
I will not be let down
I will press my shoulder to the door
and shove it all the way open
Displace the hard-packed earth
Let the sun shine into the dark corners and
throw seed to the birds

Is this anything?

5 thoughts on “Is this anything?

  1. Shannon White says:

    Beautiful and inspiring to say the least. When you share this stuff, as hard as it may be, it really touches people. Makes me want to dust off some notebooks…if I can stomach the bad stuff.

    Liked by 1 person

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