1.
Summer Dinner
Time will come and sun will fade
breeze blown on hot skin as
supper drifts
there sitting father
black hair shaken back
from smiling eyes
mother just finishing
a laugh
little brother waiting
one small leg dangling
off the edge of chair
as we finish
listening for the
bell of the iced cream truck
coming soon
******
2. “Just one of those things??”
Pain grabs her from her sleeping bed
Kicks her to the kitchen counter
Clutching her swollen belly as warm blood
Drips down thighs and a three-year-old
Awoken almost-brother asks
In high pitched wind-chimed clarity
No more baby?
******
3.
Collateral Damage
normal
phantasmic creation
flushed brushed on
would be mother face
grinning little girl joy
hand stroking
bump she clearly sees
and they group-grinned
touch in turn
wondrous with
her
normal
rapid drum-beat
bouncing joyfully off
sterile walls
sound track to
grainy-inchling-news
fragile as bright tissue paper
passed carefully trusted hand to hand
fingers crossed by
superstitious sentinels
not breathing "baby"
word yet
normal
vials of blood
crimson drawn
returned in black and white
all clear - one day
ambiguous another
normal
ultimately,
Chorionic villus sampling
CVS
friendly as ubiquitous red Rx signs
a 'rule out,' a few cells
an extra-special-be-surety-bond
nauseous, ravenous, yawning
waiting for
normal
flushed cheeks,
sparkled eyes,
hand brushing belly
a doctor visit...
all is well!
heart beat strong, strong, strong
normal
time ticks, secretly, silently
draining joy until
devastation descends
a piano breaking free-falling
from a penthouse floor
plummeting
CVS, viper in Eden
slicing safety straps
slithering venom through
phone lines, sibilantly hissing
not, not, not
not normal
to love devastation
to proceed with calamity
to embrace disaster growing
into certified fruition
horror is the ungrown baby
rather than the baby born in hopeful joy
then embraced in terrified tears of
revealed anomaly
"Make the appointment' they say
"Just one of those things"
"Happens every day"
normal
hemorrhaged possibility pouring
from a soft gut
kicked hard with a
steel toed boot
floating from nothing
to become all
normal
gurgled drowning gasping
vail of sobbing, sodden choices
sputtered wetly in unspeakable
sadness
normal
dead eyes dulled with
the no choice, choice
pancaked piano
vipered steel boots
No, nothing normal
no matter what they say
in their composed, rounded vowel form
"sign-here," paper smiles
until
contained derailed love detonates
explodes in blinding conflagration
onto the pancaked pavement
where they lay scattered
shrapnel seared, glittering fractured fragments
ever falling, piercing again and again.
torn hearts of collateral damage
(*things beyond one's own mirror are much
larger than they seem.)
Are poems 2 and 3 related? A tough read. Wow. The exact nature of the event(s) described is ambiguous -- perhaps purposely so? One can make an educated guess, yet at risk of treading on what appears to be some very personal and painful ground. Probably best to absorb these discomfiting verses in respectful silence.
ReplyDeleteDavid
David....Poetry is not personal as far as I am concerned. No need to tread lightly. The prompt was "normal". and very often women face painful personal issues that are dismissed in attempt to soothe as "normal" ..... These 2 are related only only in the fact that they deal with the complicated emotional and social milieu of pregnancy. PLEASE ALL FEEL FREE TO COMMENT... If you were disturbed then part of the intent has been achieved...in terms of raising awareness....
ReplyDeletePoetry is a guise, something to be slipped on and off, yet experiences shared by unrelated people can grab and shake emotion.
ReplyDeleteI was touched by the poetry, not disturbed. Still, It achieved its intent.
Great writing, Doctor.
Mike Patrick ... it is the intent of every poet and perhaps human being to 'touch' another and connect with them... Thank you for the honor and ... your description of poetry is absolutely wonderful!
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