Who we were

 

My mother gave me
a word
a wrist
a twist of the knee
a song
a book
a hunger

My father gave me
fear 
arguments
sentiment
a push
a pull
a hunger

My sister gave me
games
scissors
answers
a whispered bond
something to aim for
someone to watch

My mother wanted
warmth
adventure 
love

My father wanted
truth 
perfection
family

My sister wanted
bare feet
freedom

What was I
supposed to want?

My mother was tougher
than she looked 
than she knew
in her dreamy far-off world
she could be
untouchable

My father was less guarded
than he would have liked
to be
easier to touch
easier to wound
if I’d only known

My sister was prettier
than she wanted to be
and than me
and pricklier
than I wanted her to be
and than me

All I was
was littler
littler
littler

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Blue

I can’t see out of these glasses anymore.  I went back to visit my real life, looking in through the dirty panes.  I walked into the road empty-handed, and while I stood there, blind, in the middle of the street, the cars roared by me on either sidewalk. Belching, I think, exhaust from fifty years ago. Little old divorced lady in the middle of Indiana.  Seven, eight years ago, in the waning months of what had always been my real life, I walked to the eyecare center down the street with the man who had always been my real husband and he picked out a pair of large rectangular blue glasses for me. He always said I looked wonderful in blue. A little later, carelessly, he took me to Berlin and said oh, whoops, I love you a whole bunch but being married to you for the rest of my life just doesn’t float my boat, so, um, bye. My brain had often gotten compliments before, but it stopped working. I wore the big blue glasses everywhere and they got the compliments. I stammered, oh, thanks, my, uh
Read more

The same road

Strangely, it seems as though this is the same road I have been walking down all my life. It has branched, and forked, and turned. It has developed deep bumpy ruts, it has flooded, it has been dirt-packed and weed-overgrown and it has been paved. Sometimes I have had to jump from paving stone to paving stone, sometimes I have padded forward smooth as you please. I have skipped along barefoot, I have worn a colorful menagerie of shoes, I have tripped and fallen, tripped and caught myself, tripped and gone down hard, twisted more ankles than a person ought reasonably to be able to twist. I have walked light and heavy, hot and chilly, through deep sand, across sharp stones, alone reading a book, alone reading a phone, holding hands with my mother, my father, my sister, my Marjy and Linda best friends, with my lover, my runaway babies with my pinky in their little fists. I have walked with my posse, always and forever on down the road. And do you know, as the road goes along, sometimes it
Read more