Creating, Feeling

Bookmark, A Poem

September 10, 2015

The book was shabby, its cover torn and worn and drawn all over the map,
the way I felt. Leaving home. Leaving you.
I trace my fingers over the inscription, “Go get them tiger,” you wrote
and wrapped it in a newspaper which I keep as a bookmark
because home is Newsday and the comics section I pulled out to read
over my cereal before school, but only after you were done reading first.
The paper your Bible, words your daily bread
something to eat while you read is your breakfast.
and I wonder how you could wake up morning after morning without so much
as a whimper,
of the long days, the backbreaking days, back to back appointments
with people who saw you was their caretaker
who could not do it themselves
the bedpans and the piss and the Jell-O cups stacked,
untouched and wasted plastic
when you made us recycle everything, sorting and bagging
tying those read and used and worn papers with twine
and stacking them
outside for the recycling truck
its blue so fabulous against the morning sun
waiting for the bus
watching you drive off
a quick honk the horn
and gone.

Written last week during a Wild Write with Sherry. From an August Moon prompt by Wolf and Word.

You Might Also Like

No Comments

Leave a Reply