Seeds

 

I remember

Mama’s gravid belly

(A nest for safe and warm Sissy)

Beneath a baby blue muumuu,

Swishin’ this way an’ that

Over swollen thong-shod feet

Clop-cloppin’ as she turned away.

Waiting steel fangs of gray memory swallowed her –

Without Michael.

 

I remember Paw-paw too;

Musky-leathery-smoky skin

And scaly ashes like glitter cast

Across his faded favorite shirt.

There’s Michael,

A curled infant squirrel abandoned –

Nappin’ against a wasted frame –

Sticky orange Naugahyde creakin’

As he bravely withered away.

Naïveté is poison.

 

And precious Maw-maw...

Boney, boo-booed hands

Jostlin’ with that weather-worn hoe

Against time in the mourning garden.

A Magi’s hands that kneaded dough

And bathed the boy she christened Son.

Doe-Doe, she whispered, then softly sang –

Frè-re Jac-ques, Frè-re Jac-ques, Dor-mez vous –

Dormez vous Sweet Lady.

 

Of course I remember Daddy;

Whiskered, porcine inebriate.

A lougin’ walrus slurrin’ needful petitions

An’ beggin’ forgiveness

On Marlboro-tainted bourbon breath

While the child feigned sleep (or death)

In the crook of a paralyzed arm.

Two strangers’ sorrows sailed away

Having never said g’bye.

 

And...

And I recall the Fox –

Furtive and shifty Reynard –

Slinkin’ through tenured mem’ry.

Layin’ and loungin’ together in the secret place;

Halted breath as fire pushed inside.

Untamed rage of something sown,

Stampeding stallions beneath salty seas.

 

The Never-Enough forever yearns

                an unquenchable flame.

 

Yes, I remember.

 

And through it all

I never saw Michael cry.

Not when it mattered –

Not when it counted.