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Click hereI trace the knife marks
in my dead aunt’s table
and recall her slicing madly
while my uncle called her names.
The table is mine now
as is the yellow house;
the one my aunt bought
when she also ran away.
I am stricken by the revelation
that everything is too small here:
the one car garage,
the compact refrigerator,
the single chair alone.
In her bedroom
I sleep fitfully
as vivid dreams replay the moment
I lifted a tattered box
and its contents spilled to the floor.
He’d laughed then and swore
I would never make it.
On my own, I cringe in bed
when the neighbor’s dog barks;
I wonder if I locked the windows
or if those were footsteps I just heard.
Childhood prayers come to mind
as I whisper for guardian angels
and the guidance of my aunt,
who I can still see laughing
while sitting in the single chair
as she polished the sliced up table
that was destined to be mine.
I liked it...its worth the second read to get its impacted.
thank you for a glimps into your world.
Invited in to your kitchen
I treasure these little moments
when I can warm my hands
with a cup of tea or chocolate
so we can trade stories
that table looks
so very much like a map
or ancient aztec plain lines
that once had meaning
and now have lingering mystery
i imagine a country there sometimes
trying to see you as a child
playing in those streets
Another wonderfully haunting write
Culling emotions unseen
From the reader's own soul...
in the New Poem Review thread: http://www.literotica.com:81/forum/showthread.php?p=15408586#post15408586
jim : )
in the New Poem Review thread: http://www.literotica.com:81/forum/showthread.php?p=15408586#post15408586
jim : )