The Wabi-Sabi Writer

My hair - wavy flaxen 

flowed down 

my back

My imagination 

effervescent    

expansive

and

ethereal

My childhood -  

all ballet recitals 

and play dough parties

a future

well assured

then

felled

by

a pixie

a parting

and pain

 of learning 

it was too late

to change

November Poetry Project

15 of 30  

My red plastic cup with straw attached

so perfect for blowing a frantic froth of milky bubbles

My orange creamsicle coverlet

a snuggly soft security blanket

keeping me safe even as it, like life, unravelled

My menagerie 

a wild bounty of stuffies -

bears, bunnies, kittens and frogs

all cuddly and cozy and love

My kitties

All kitties

Sunny, Coco, Dum Dum, Grover, Speedy, Sweet Lady and her sweet babies, Sebastian, Peppermint, Missy, Dog, Squeaky, even the bite-y bastard Merlin, Moses, Ivy, Sunny, Sasha, Riff-Raff, Scratch, Sniff, Sassafras, Snoozie (Paresseuse), Carlos, Eclypse

Sophie

Lionel

Onyx & Opal

November Poetry Project

14 of 30   

Twice

my mother

hit me

though she claims she never did

Once

across the face

for perceived

sass

the shock

stung

more than the slap

Again

on the ass

five times

in front of the fridge

for asking for a glass of milk

from a stranger

why would a five year old

follow fifteen year olds

oh they said I was old enough

to walk home

from school

This tiny yet tall girl

soon found herself

 tired

and

thirsty

alone

(the teens vanishing into their own airs)

So I wandered

into a strange house

a woman in the kitchen

smiling

when I asked for a glass of milk

I do not remember 

how I got home

or the kind woman's name

just my mother's arm

wrapped around my shoulders

her palm making purchase

on my pants

the refrigerator humming

 only witness

 to the crime

November Poetry Project

13 of 30   

when you knew

nothing

everything

anything

for certain

you were

 happier

smarter

sadder

lonelier 

were you?

and just when

did you believe

it wasn't 

enough?

November Poetry Project

12 of 30   

yet still rife

with dread

where

the walls

lined with tiny dancers

demons

under the bed

My mother

a nonbeliever

through and through

sat me at the formica table

to memorize

the lords prayer

with much ado 

Hurling rhubarb 

in the hall

snapping bones

in a fall

Jealous

Jehovah

witnessed

the death of Santa Claus

by her own hand

Covetous

Cousins

purloined

the pool

with a false promise land

and yet

here I thought I was safe 

a red baby grand piano standing sentinel

in the parlor

peering

Little house on the prairie

through the lattice 

an emerald ring

on my tiny finger

Until one late afternoon

bled into night

and she said

we were never going back

home

all good things

they say must come

to an

end

November Poetry Project

11 of 30