I laid nose-to-nose, in tall, old grasses, with a spirited coyote, some nights ago.
He said to me, with lips unparted and low, shiny eyes - to listen.

Hesitantly, I inched forward and nudged that coyote with my face, prodding him for something more.

But, nothing came.
He simply stared back at me, unblinkingly.

“I listen!”
I shouted with a heart on fire.
“I listen more than anyone I know!”

The coyote continued his staring game, quieting my bosomed flames.
Stubborn - they erupted, something ugly, from the valley, into the mountaintop.
Spilling from eyes, in the mountainside, I screamed back into his so loud,
The mountain ached from its shut in echo.

Patient " the coyote waited.
So, I stopped.

Somehow surprised, I found that, after the flames subsided into greys of ashes, in silence, I had begun to listen.
That coyote’s eyes were urging eyes, unmoving " unrelenting.

Obedient, I drew forth my worn, careful bag out and placed it, gently, in the dirt between us.
The coyote snatched it, in the grain between our breaths, and held it between clenched teeth.

I glared at him with challenging eyes " he stared back at me, just the same.
I reached out to grab it, but halfway there, I heard the coyote command me,

“Stop.”

The coyote lay there, my ashes raging about loudly " still silent, my bag between his teeth.
As the ashes settled, his glaring eyes mellowed, and I watched as he gobbled it up.

--

A crow cawed somewhere.
The full moon shone down approvingly.

My soul sighed once.
My body followed.




The coyote slept -
I bowed my head in silence.

I created a couple on Sims, once.
They were so fantastically in love.
Together they made Gabby,
And a roughling, named Danny.

And, they all lived together,
In Flat 1.

One day, the dad dropped the kids at school,
And, off he went, to work.
I let Taylar, the mum, cheat,
With a stud, on repeat.

Now, I’m just waiting,
‘Cause I know what will come.

Gordy, the dad, who’s still in the dark,
Went to meditate in the park,
There, he saw Taylar,
With Benny, the sailor.

Cue, the planned brawl,
In the street.

Gordy, the dad,
When it was done, had won.
Taylar, crawled back, so sweetly.
But Gordy’s no fool,
He said they were through,
And, sat her junk out on the street.

Taylar the *****,
Went down to the bank,
To clear out Gordy’s account.
But, smart Gordy had listened,
And, cleared out his pension -
Knocked Taylar right off her feet.

So, now, Taylar’s reflecting,
And Gordy’s out flexing,
His muscles he found,
In pastime.

Gabby, so sweet, has started to teach,
While, Danny leads group rock climbs.

Soon enough -

Mum’ll find a new beau,
Dad - a darling, in tow.
Everyone broken -
Now mended.

They all will be fine,
Everything works, in due time,
By the point, at which the story has ended.

(You will make best use of the following words, if you open the Savannah, Within A Month poem, in another tab.)**

It was brought to my attention that I somehow managed to write ALL of the emotion but too few clues in my piece to relay the entire story.

Though, this was done intentionally, due to my reluctance to actually tell the whole story, I do want you guys to be able to read the words written in between the lines, without my losing what I’ve created, by undoing the strings that weave in and about the poem:

In case you missed it, Judy first reviewed my poem commenting on the wistful feeling that appears throughout the piece and the additional sadness at the end. She thought that, perhaps, my father had left us.

Well.
Yes…and no.
This piece is a really twisty thing of a piece that hangs off the edge of, “Oh, I get it!”
… even for me.
But, it’s that deja vu bit that makes it hard to grasp.
So, let me lay out a few things:

The airport bit, at the end, was referring to when I would leave for Savannah
…indirectly “because,” of my dad leaving.

But, it was just a mental leaving, that happened.
He never actually left.

All of the emotion was there, but I chose to write, instead, about me leaving for Savannah, rather than my dad leaving for another woman.
So, I end up talking about what actually went on, but instead of ending the story with, “and then he left,” i end it with, “and then i left.”

I tend to have trouble putting issues I haven’t actually dealt with yet, into words.
I apologize.
But, somehow, talking about a direct “result” of the issue was easier.

But, the whole foreshadowing of his leaving (which is written in between the lines), shows up throughout the entire poem:

The mood of the relationship between my parents was written into the first stanza.

The way mum thought about the issues between her and my dad, into the second stanza.  

Me wondering about deja vu (and indirectly, from my current standpoint, the deja vu i had just recently (that im almost sure i had then - about them splitting)) + Mum’s frustration and the effect it was having on her, into third stanza.

My attitude about her burning her finger bc of my question, in the fourth.

Her brushing me off about all of it, in the fifth.

My attitude THEN about her brushing the question off + my attitude NOW about her brushing the entire situation off, in the sixth.


-Then, actual recent accounts of deja vu come into play-

I asked dad if he was “working late at the office again,” -
But, immediately, i zone out, bc i’m experiencing deja vu,
(the smell of grits, i inserted to, in a roundabout way, say that it was somehow connected to the earlier events in childhood),
except this time, though it felt like deja vu, it seemed as if i foresaw them splitting when i was younger, but i was seeing it…….just then?

(deja vu is already confusing - and this little twist on it took me for a spin!)

Either way,

The stolen wine bottle was from the deja vu i'd had - It is placed to foreshadow an event that WOULD take place (there is a literal wine bottle i need to secure lol),
But also, since it felt like a foreshadowing, in the past OF the past, the wine bottle symbolizes my parent’s marriage being stolen by another woman.

The still frozen cookies symbolize me feeling like I was, somehow, stuck in my childhood, when it all was happening.

P.S. Not relevant to the understanding of the story, but the cat doubles as me, attempting to get the answers I wanted. I wanted her to just "realize" and use her mother's intuition to just "know" what to say to me and how to say it. But, she didn't. "So, I just asked."

Once, when my curls still tickled, only the tops of my ears,
Mum quietly ironed my daddy's pants - he ate his cold grits and eggs.

She thought I didn't see her see me watching the cat,
Claw at her leg - And so, I just asked,

"Why does déjà vu  only come too late, for me to know what I should do?"
She wrinkled her nose, instead of sayin' and,
Singed her spider-leg fingers.

--

So, I sat there.
Somewhat, unsure.

--

"Baby," she said, as she shook her head, "You shouldn't fret over things like that."
She continued her ironin' - the cat kept clawin',

--

And, I sat there.
Somewhat, unsure.

--

I asked my daddy earlier, yesterday, if he would work late, down at the office.
He began saying some words, but very few were heard,

My attention smelled -
So much -
Like grits.

I saw the wine bottle stolen and my cookies still frozen,
Yesterday,
But, in a way,
Soon after the airport.

How do you make your triangular squares,
Spin into yellow circles?

First they were blue,
And, before I knew,
It, they were fading into pinks,
Unglued.

I've tussled with logic,
Inside of my pocket,
Picking you slowly apart.

Now, I've given in,
That's it - You win.

Poetic - Your soul is an art.

I once saw the edge of time flip over,
Into the middle of two days ago.

So, I sat right through it,
Because, I already knew it -

Realized opportunities,
Lost in the cosmos.

--

Just now,

I saw the beginning,
Of time flip over,
Into our section of the universe,

How many years,
Do you think disappeared,
Or doubled,

In this single discourse?

Half-breed kitty cat,
Mewing through the gate,
"Too few marbles in your bag,
To paw over this way?

I ain't got no mites in my fur,
Just spots my mama gave me.
We even moved into this yard,
And out that ***** alley.

Excuse my rasp,
From the sharp, sharp glass,
That stuck in my throat last summer.

As, a kind ol' woman took it out for me,
But, left a piece - though, I forgive her.

I promise I'll be fair,
If I can play,
And paw at your pretty marbles.

I'm a kitty cat too,
Like the lot of you,

Just as kitty,
And, just as able."

---

"Oh, I'm not allowed,
To even join the crowd,
'cause my fur ain't as yellow as yours?

Well, I'm a kitty cat queen -
Know what I mean?
This world will open up,
Better doors."