I.
My son does not understand fear,
he is 3,
he thinks in color,
he believes in magic,
he says that our dog Smokey
controls the weather.

Watch him as he goes!
Jumping over cracks on sidewalks,
pretending to fly,
attempting to get near electric outlets
because he saw them spark once,
and fire,
fire is cool!

"Watch me Mommy!

watch me."

II.
Some days I stay in bed all day,
I tell everyone I am catching a cold,
a sinus infection,
another migraine again.

It is easier to lie than to explain,
that it is too difficult to shower,
to find an outfit, to brush my hair,
to make food,
to chew it.

Friends jokingly call me a hypochondriac,
my Mother thinks I am mellow dramatic,
My son asks me if I need my temperature checked.

It is too honest to say,
"I am fighting monsters, and they won today."
Who would believe me if I did?

We are taught since childhood
to not believe in the things
we can not see.

III.
The day we buried my Grandfather,
I wore my favorite gray dress,
I was scared to taint it
with such a sad memory,
but I was 8 months pregnant
and nothing else fit.

We threw dirt in a hole
as three strangers watched us grieve.
They stood with shovels ready to do their jobs,
ready to get home to their loved ones.  

All I could think about was how much
it aches to love anyone,
even in the good times, it aches.
Loss dances outside our window
like flames, waiting to engulf.

I vowed to protect my child
from any unnecessary pain,
I vowed to make him feel safe.

Now I fear I am the one
tainting him in gray.

IV.
Not every day is bad,
most days are nice, in fact,
some days are so good
that the bad ones seem
like distant memories.

On the good days I feel brave,
brave like my son;

I tickle his tummy and show him
which lights are stars, which are planets,
and tell him I love him, always,
no matter what.

Where are all the great patrons
Throw me a hook you fishers of men

That I might be caught and eaten
by the audience beyond the footlights

That my blood be spilled on pages
and canvas in prescribed portion

Afford me the flame of arrogance
to believe that my own hand
in the fire of creation touches wonder
and maybe God himself

0100110110- etc..
  0 & 1 & 2 is 3
         " ? "

i know two numbers,
one and zero

though the "two" cannot exist here,
the inclusion of an additional
element becomes a necessary evil,

for zero once paired becomes
a paradox resulting from three
instances of enumeration

(presumably at once)

since the zero is involved in all this,
its very existence must count, even if
in fact it only represents a void—

to correct this numerical anomaly,
the two must exit this array by first
taking nothing with it...


"a binary mystification"
© 2010 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved

In a one sided
propaganda world believe
in yourself not them

                     Kelly McManus