Tuesday
It’s 2 pm, she guessed
curtains drawn, like a mask covering the
fresh, new, pretty face of the day, sunlight an enemy
the noise of birds breaking through the silk
she’s been half-sleeping since about 7 am
in and out, she dips herself into dreams
and their drowsy paint
drunk with the lethargy
thoughts running smooth like water
and crashing into each other like waves
the phone rings with sudden expectancy
her daughter again, she’s been calling since 9
it’s strange how her ring sounds different
from those of her friends
and the rest of her family
it’s more annoying, a bit louder
and it makes her a bit angry
she feels older than she is
too old to worry about herself
needing a million phone calls just to feel safe
pitied like a toddler
stumbling, using everything to pull herself
through the world
the preparation age
for the years she endured
she’s back to stage one, then?
maybe that’s why God decided
to put the full stop around 90.
So people wouldn’t have to relive
years of tumbling through the world
like a clumsy giant, even though you’re tinier
than you’d ever know, so small in this universe
you feel so young and powerful
your parents think you’re cute
then, later on, they wonder where they went wrong
and you tell them “in bed ”
and your dad slaps you
and you walk out the door
and you tumble, stumble, fumble
through people and places
and boys that never called back
and best friends that never existed
and jobs that paid to **** you dry
and weddings and funerals
and your mom crying in your arms
then you crying by yourself
after she’s gone
we’re all toddlers
each and every one of us
even those of us who got their heads ******* on tight
sometimes that light switch in your heart
doesn’t generate light in your head
and you can’t see to get through this dark world
sometimes you gotta cry
scream
bash your head against something
and cry harder because it hurts
then laugh like you’re crazy
you are crazy
just a crazy old lady
sitting in a dark room
crying as if something’s wrong
when you’re actually happy
happy, because you aren’t at the full stop
happy, because God’s still reading
happy, because your stupid daughter still loves you
after all the times you went wrong
happy because your parents forgave you
and you still have your best friend from 16
and you were employed when you retired
and you fell in love a million times
and you could fall in love a million times more
it’s about 3 pm
she feels like it’s been forever
she reaches over for that phone
a shaky finger swiping
30 missed calls
120 messages
“mom, im coming over”
“mom, answer the phone!”
“pls im worried”
“mom, answer”
a smile breaks her stiff skin
pale eyes watering to the bright light
illuminating the darkness
she sits alone with this digital candle
she knows she should be grateful
so many mothers are disowned
nine months, no,
20 years of pregnancy
their babies tight under their hearts
fed on blood and tears and sweat
only to abandon them
on the doorstep of some retirement ‘home’
aborted
forgotten
but she’s the one
under her daughter’s heart
God, she loves that girl
it’s.....she doesn’t know the time.
maybe centuries went by while she was in her room
thinking
someone’s knocking on the door
the phone’s ringing again
the birds are still singing
she smiles
“Coming!”
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 9:19 PM UTC
Tuesday
It’s 2 pm, she guessed
curtains drawn, like a mask covering the
fresh, new, pretty face of the day, sunlight an enemy
the noise of birds breaking through the silk
she’s been half-sleeping since about 7 am
in and out, she dips herself into dreams
and their drowsy paint
drunk with the lethargy
thoughts running smooth like water
and crashing into each other like waves
the phone rings with sudden expectancy
her daughter again, she’s been calling since 9
it’s strange how her ring sounds different
from those of her friends
and the rest of her family
it’s more annoying, a bit louder
and it makes her a bit angry
she feels older than she is
too old to worry about herself
needing a million phone calls just to feel safe
pitied like a toddler
stumbling, using everything to pull herself
through the world
the preparation age
for the years she endured
she’s back to stage one, then?
maybe that’s why God decided
to put the full stop around 90.
So people wouldn’t have to relive
years of tumbling through the world
like a clumsy giant, even though you’re tinier
than you’d ever know, so small in this universe
you feel so young and powerful
your parents think you’re cute
then, later on, they wonder where they went wrong
and you tell them “in bed ”
and your dad slaps you
and you walk out the door
and you tumble, stumble, fumble
through people and places
and boys that never called back
and best friends that never existed
and jobs that paid to **** you dry
and weddings and funerals
and your mom crying in your arms
then you crying by yourself
after she’s gone
we’re all toddlers
each and every one of us
even those of us who got their heads ******* on tight
sometimes that light switch in your heart
doesn’t generate light in your head
and you can’t see to get through this dark world
sometimes you gotta cry
scream
bash your head against something
and cry harder because it hurts
then laugh like you’re crazy
you are crazy
just a crazy old lady
sitting in a dark room
crying as if something’s wrong
when you’re actually happy
happy, because you aren’t at the full stop
happy, because God’s still reading
happy, because your stupid daughter still loves you
after all the times you went wrong
happy because your parents forgave you
and you still have your best friend from 16
and you were employed when you retired
and you fell in love a million times
and you could fall in love a million times more
it’s about 3 pm
she feels like it’s been forever
she reaches over for that phone
a shaky finger swiping
30 missed calls
120 messages
“mom, im coming over”
“mom, answer the phone!”
“pls im worried”
“mom, answer”
a smile breaks her stiff skin
pale eyes watering to the bright light
illuminating the darkness
she sits alone with this digital candle
she knows she should be grateful
so many mothers are disowned
nine months, no,
20 years of pregnancy
their babies tight under their hearts
fed on blood and tears and sweat
only to abandon them
on the doorstep of some retirement ‘home’
aborted
forgotten
but she’s the one
under her daughter’s heart
God, she loves that girl
it’s.....she doesn’t know the time.
maybe centuries went by while she was in her room
thinking
someone’s knocking on the door
the phone’s ringing again
the birds are still singing
she smiles
“Coming!”
My first poem in a LONG while. Maybe that's why it's so long, ha.
Thanks for reading <3
