Metamorphosisterhood

   

Sitting at the park, moonlight lonesome asks fetch my poem  

No I demure, 'tis for my daughters 

Better make it good jerk the moon swings between trees 

Oh how other me in my eyore voice drinking a small can of priceless 

Who crushed who heart ten years ago

Was it pressed in a library book overdue?

They'd do impromptu plays, maybe ten minutes of practice out of sight

Our living room kept getting smaller over the years , Natalie's paintings everywhere 

We had a hearth however with a beautiful woman holding her violin almost correctly at rest 

I bought them violins a few years back, thought they'd beg for lessons 

Isis loved dance and drawing and poetry, who's to prioritize  

Mesa loved making cartoon stories with narratives, we have them today in storage 

The girls had their own rooms 

We had a bathroom connected to the master bedroom 

It wasn't fort anomaly but the cul de sac was only blocks from their k thru 8 

I had 5 gigs, jewelry at the psm, music all over town with famous old folks, painting the kingmakers home in eastmoreland, making delivering salsa to 12 mile, being a father husband poet 

I made up stories every night to put the girls to sleep 

I'd done that their whole lives 

Now I'm not sure they remember anything 

Creston friends and once verboten family, the wedge appeals to adolescence, interrogation knows 

Ten years later they're women not girls they call their own shots 

They got mom on speed dial and if my text arrives on a day of the week I'm subject to scorn and advice 

Silence also intrudes 

In a city not your hometown but one where all the sudden fuck i gotta buy my own quesadilla

dawns.

April 29, 2024