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"nebraskan" poems
If I grew my hair to my knees and dyed it to the color of the wind, would you still recognize him If I pealed away at my fingers to make them look thinner, would you still be able to remember them If I never walked into the sun again and took an eraser to my skin, just to be a bit lighter, would that be enough to disguise him What if I even change the way I speak, a whole octive higher or perhaps lower, would his voice still be familiar What if I make myself shorter or taller, with reconstructive surgery, do you think then you can be fooled by him But what if I break my nose and reshape it    Take my lips and deflate them       Gouge my eyes to replace them Would that make a difference What if I told you that you never had to see him again, that he can be different, he can be better, he could be anything Would you believe in him No... But thanks for trying
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Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 8:33 AM UTC
clay
The Nebraskan
If I grew my hair to my knees and dyed it to the color of the wind, would you still recognize him If I pealed away at my fingers to make them look thinner, would you still be able to remember them If I never walked into the sun again and took an eraser to my skin, just to be a bit lighter, would that be enough to disguise him What if I even change the way I speak, a whole octive higher or perhaps lower, would his voice still be familiar What if I make myself shorter or taller, with reconstructive surgery, do you think then you can be fooled by him But what if I break my nose and reshape it    Take my lips and deflate them       Gouge my eyes to replace them Would that make a difference What if I told you that you never had to see him again, that he can be different, he can be better, he could be anything Would you believe in him No... But thanks for trying
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“Mommy, can I have this dolly please? I know that I have other ones at home. Can I? Please? Yes I know there’s kids in Africa that don’t have any dollies, That’s not what I was getting at. Mommy, I want it. I want it. Mommy!” Remember that mom? How silly was I? Greedy for all the wrong things... I feel your hand now- soft, fragile, wrinkled- in mine. The doctors tell me that you haven’t got a lot of time… “She’s hanging on by the tips of her fingers.” One of them told me. Always a fighter. Even when you’re pale and frail. How long will you be here, to hold my hand while the hospital machines tick like sadistic time machines? Like a clock without conscience. I want more ticks on the machine. I want more heartbeats. “Mommy I want it.” No. I want you. You should see the snow outside, Mom. Typical Nebraskan winter, I tell ya. Remember when I was eight, and there was that huge blizzard? The snow piled up, but it was a gentle snow. Fluffy. Light. The snow will keep falling. Keep fighting, the way the flakes fight the wind. (Sigh) Your hair is so grey now. I remember when you used to dye it To spite dad and his ever greying, salt-and-pepper style. You’re so thin... Ugh! Come back to me, let’s rewind To the years when I could be greedy for dollies, and not for days.
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Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 10:43 AM UTC
LittleRaeLawson
Mommy, Can I?
“Mommy, can I have this dolly please? I know that I have other ones at home. Can I? Please? Yes I know there’s kids in Africa that don’t have any dollies, That’s not what I was getting at. Mommy, I want it. I want it. Mommy!” Remember that mom? How silly was I? Greedy for all the wrong things... I feel your hand now- soft, fragile, wrinkled- in mine. The doctors tell me that you haven’t got a lot of time… “She’s hanging on by the tips of her fingers.” One of them told me. Always a fighter. Even when you’re pale and frail. How long will you be here, to hold my hand while the hospital machines tick like sadistic time machines? Like a clock without conscience. I want more ticks on the machine. I want more heartbeats. “Mommy I want it.” No. I want you. You should see the snow outside, Mom. Typical Nebraskan winter, I tell ya. Remember when I was eight, and there was that huge blizzard? The snow piled up, but it was a gentle snow. Fluffy. Light. The snow will keep falling. Keep fighting, the way the flakes fight the wind. (Sigh) Your hair is so grey now. I remember when you used to dye it To spite dad and his ever greying, salt-and-pepper style. You’re so thin... Ugh! Come back to me, let’s rewind To the years when I could be greedy for dollies, and not for days.
Continue reading...
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