Mama’s Phone.

When my Mama calls, you listen.

That’s the way she raised us and-

That’s the way it’s gonna be.

That telephone rings, boy

You’re over to the table with that pen and paper.

You don’t let no answering machine do your work for you boy.

And that day, well- we listen reeeeeal good.

We listen so good to that message when the operator said “out of” and “service” and “collections”

We took every word down.

I even spelled out the words to my sister, Maybella, she said it was so crystal clear on that phone.

She told me it was right what I wrote.

We spelled the words once out loud- I spelled it again twice in my head.

I let the words roll over me.

Col- lect-tions.

De-fi-cient.

Ain’t nobody gon’ say we got lazy that day.

That day.

The day mama called for us-

When she called-

Halfway down the steps, I was already halfway down.

She called us down to the kitchen.

So proud of me. I thought she’d be so proud.

I handed her the note-

A big grin on my face.

I stood there in front of her.

Mama read the note- once, twice, three times.

I watched her mouth form the words she was gon’ say.

The corners of her mouth turned, I watched the wrinkles.

Mama had a lot of wrinkles.

More since Henry had come to stay.

Impolite to stare.

That’s what mama always said to me.

Im-PO-Lite.

I looked away, at the icebox, the window.

White fog staring at me.

Drops of water- they always raced.

At least I thought they did.

Hummmm-

Mama.

Paper in her fist.

Words mama.

Give me some words.

Stuck somehow- maybe they were stuck-

Maybe they were in there-

In that paper-

Maybe.

There.

Advertisements
Posted in creative writing, Uncategorized | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Sizzle.

Down to the water

I go.

Happy.

I am happy here.

And why would I not be?

The sun shines, the birds-

Seagulls in the distance,

They call to me

A soft song-

a friendly guardian-

I know I’m not alone here.

The breeze- its mild- a gentle touch.

I stand at waters edge.

Sand, so soft.

And yet-

an itch here.

The sand-

it’s actually quite pointy now.

It’s not a friendly welcome, as I once thought.

And I-

If I stand too long in one place.

It’s an uncomfortable place to be

And there-

in that moment I feel,

the warmth that was once so inviting.

ssSSSsss….

too hot.

too much.

move.

Posted in creative writing, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Decay

Bare feet on sinews

Stepping lightly, so as not to disturb

The remaining threads on the woven carpet

The silence of the clock in the hall

Its song has stopped by for years and yet-

Its mark is there-

A sun-faded outline on the wall

and I, a reminder of the impermanence–

Do my best to keep what remains

My awkward shuffle, stirring dust,

Stirring memories

An unwanted presence here.

A reminder that all things strong

Do eventually break–

Worn, frayed and weak.

We are all doing our best dance

To maintain what will–

Eventually.

Someday.

Today.

Tick.

Tock.

Stop.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Rondeaux

Together we–

Two bodies.

Alone.

We occupy this space.

Stretching tendons,

Atoms and barriers

Sinews woven together

And yet- this dance

Its ebb and flow–

The bows and exits.

Plays for us

The most beautiful melody

In our empty room.

 

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Tear

A woman sits in the corner alone.

Patches of fabric scattered by her feet.

Some  red,

Some yellow,

Some striped.

Some are new- fine cloth

Others dirty, tattered and torn-

Threadbare.

And this woman,

She sits in the corner with her string,

Patiently piecing cloth together.

Fabric upon fabric

Her face worked into a pinch. Each piece she fits.

She works them in her hand and shapes them.

Together.

 

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Wallpaper

I built a wall- around my house

The green grass grows,

Green grass grows,

And in my house, by that wall

Only the prettiest flowers bloom.

And when I see a friend draw near-

I stand and shout “no room! no room!”

No room indeed- for daffodils-

They are a weed and spread as such.

No room for foxes, mice or geese.

I never liked them very much.

And by my house, above the wall

A man stands watch- sentinel-

He guards my castle- makes it well.

Though where he’s from I cannot tell-

And in that garden by that wall,

Dark, and gray- mud and stone

There I stand as the grass grows tall

There I sit-

Alone.

Posted in creative writing, Uncategorized | Tagged | Leave a comment

Touch.

Breath-

Inhale

Lungs and blood

Pumping together.

Cells on cells.

Pulse.

Static and a pause-

and carbon floating

And in that moment.

A sigh

Released and isolated.

Alone.

Divergence.

Again.

Posted in creative writing, love, Uncategorized | Tagged | Leave a comment