Friday, May 6, 2011

Alma, Illinois 1965

i saw a cool butterfly and raced
ahead on the trail
and when i turned to come back
i was alone

hey, where'd ya go?

i am four wandering toward dollhouses
then suddenly lost in swallen's
no familiar legs, no shepherd hand to hold

everything so big and strange on the lower shelves
crying and gulping out descriptions
to the nice older uniformed man
when I see brass buttons on a
familiar royal blue corduroy coat
and i breathe safe once more
chastized but safe

that sense of doom when the GPS died
in Alma, Illinois and I had no idea where I was
even less of where I was headed or why I was there.

going back to dining solo
staring at the emptiness across from me
listening to the hollow scrape of
the fork on my plate bounce off the four walls
where recently there was laughter

it has never grown easier that sense
of finding myself suddenly alone
where moments before I was cherished and safe.

2 comments:

 I have written a lot about my belly - series of poems dedicated to it. I happen to like my belly. Always have Oh, I know it's not what ...