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 Dec 2015 sol
Erika Castaldo
I remember it so clearly,
The dark oak of the table,
The smell of her cigarette smoke.
We would sit every night and play
500 Rummy.

Then she started to get weaker.
I would watch in horror
As my grandmother’s hands shook
With every set she put down.

The oak table turned to the
Bland plastic of the one in the hospital
And her cigarettes were replaced with
An IV and an oxygen tank.

The next night
I sat in the living room,
Glaring at the empty table
And the unopened pack of cards.
They mocked me.

I dressed in black today,
When everyone tossed dirt
I tossed an Ace of Spades
And an old Zippo.
 Dec 2015 sol
Erika Castaldo
I sit and swing
Back and forth, Back and forth
as I hear the screaming of my sister
playing in my head all over again.

I hear the sound of
her bones breaking as his
foot connects with her leg.

Back and forth, Back and forth.

I hear his tone change
from violent to pained
as he apologizes and tells her
he loves her.

Back and forth, Back and forth.

I hear her beg for forgiveness
and promise him that she
will never try and leave him again.

Back and forth, Back and forth.

I push with more force
as I see the images in my mind.

Back and forth, Back and forth.
I see her and my niece
coming to dinner with bruises
they had tried to hide.

Back and forth, back and forth.

I see him glare at her
and put his hand on her shoulder
to pull her back
whenever she tries to speak
to another man.

Back and forth, Back and forth.

I see her in the hospital bed,
countless tubes and wires coming out of her
trying to keep her alive.

Back and forth, Back and forth.

I sit and swing
Back and forth, Back and forth
and stare at the sea of black down the hill.
the only color comes from a bouquet of wet
flowers on the fresh grave.

Back and forth, back and forth.
 Dec 2015 sol
Erika Castaldo
I think that love is real,
But it isn't for everybody.
Everyone I’ve loved has left
Or grown to hate me.

He made me believe in him,
Believe that he wasn't like my
Father or my Mother.
He made me believe that I would be loved.

I was so stupid
To think that he wouldn't find
Her more interesting, more beautiful
With her too-bleached hair and
Full lips she draws on each day.

She sings and dances and acts
While I read and write.
She goes to his football games
While I stay home and study.
She goes on vacations with him
While I go to college fairs.

I know I can't compare,
But I thought he cared.
 Dec 2015 sol
Erika Castaldo
i am the Ripped Wallpaper.
i am the Dusty Boxes in the attic.
i am the Toys thrown carelessly into the back of the closet.

I am Irrelevant.

i am the Holiday Decorations,
taken out only when needed.
i am the horribly Ugly Dress,
worn only when your mother makes you.
i am the Book that you Hate
but are forced to read for a grade.

i am only Relevant when you Choose.

but ripped wallpaper can be Fixed,
dust can be Swept Off
and toys can be Rediscovered.
 Dec 2015 sol
ryn
Wealth is Finite
 Dec 2015 sol
ryn
.
•not all
of us were born
with the gift of health
•not all were born into a
bassinet  fashioned out of
gold•but all of us here, be-
stowed with a treasure tro-
ve of literary wealth•an e-
ndowment to last a life-
time, that never gets
old•one must
take it
and s-
oar to
great-
er hei-
ghts..•
...ones
should
never...
forsake
such  a
boon •
let  the
...black-
ness of
our ink
coat......
the  em-
ptiest of
nights •
let the p-
ermanen-
ce   in  our
words over-
whelm...
the




finiteness
of the
silver spoon
.
Concrete Poem 24 of 30

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