Conjuring Spring

A warm breeze greets me

Bird scatter on the rush of wings, camouflaging scampering squirrels

As the sun squeezes between outstretched branches to caress newborn leaves

And, my face…

Conjuring spring…

Spoon-feeding

I turn away from you,

You turn into me.

One arm secures your hold,

As two hearts inhabit one space.

And we spoon.

Child to Child

I saw him.

I saw your child.

Bullies on your playground backed you into a corner, and he came out.

Your eyes blazed.

Your voice changed.

Confidence and bravado were exchanged for whining demands accompanied by the impotent stomping of rubber-soled feet.

A plush pout replaced your sardonic grin while red-rimmed eyes held years of unshed tears at bay.

And arms that should have held you crossed, instead, across my chest.

Sludge

I feel you, before I see you.

The light fades.
A heaviness permeates the air around me, too thick to breathe.
Anxiety ignites inside my soul.
You cast a long shadow,
as I begin to count minutes.

It takes hours,
and sometimes days,
to free myself of the black ooze with which you encase yourself;
the vileness that you fling, violently,
this way and that,
without conscience,
void of awareness,
despite my pleas.
You are deafened, by your own pain.

And, I slide.
No matter, the reinforcements,
the oft-repeated self-recriminations,
the desperate vows.
I slide into your abyss until I am covered by your noxious goo;
blinding,
binding,
bleeding,
burning,
brightly.

I boil over,
adding my excrement to yours,
until all exits are blocked;
spoiled by our filth.

And, all I can think of is getting out.

Pride and Joy

“I Am
By: Shane Carroll

I am a football fool
I wonder what I’ll be when I grow up
I hear crickets chirping in my front yard
I see football clouds in the sky
I want to be rich
I am a football fool

I pretend to be Peyton Manning
I feel like I have my team on my shoulders
I touch the moon
I worry about my Mom
I cry when I’m sad
I am a football

I understand I need help in math
I say I love school but sometimes I don’t
I dream I’m Peyton Manning
I try hard in football
I hope I’m rich when I grow up
I am a football fool”

Content

I feel it emerging.

I know it will be fleeting.

I wish I could capture it,

and savor it,

and keep it for the next time

when I really need it;

Contentment.

Cacophonous cadence

As stealthily as you brought her, you spirited her away

You never hid, never shied

You came in the front door and attacked me with words; soft words, sharp words, words that flowed with cacophonous cadence, words that drew breath from me even as they poured emotion into me

You sang a discordant song and dared me to join in the chorus,

and I sang, without accompaniment, a song I had never sung before

and as I became comfortable with the melody, you angrily changed keys.

The racket was deafening, and I responded in kind.

You answered with silence, feigning defeat

and you took her with you

my Muse.

Never

You are faceless, and, for all practical purposes nameless.
I have never buried my nose into the top of your head, or the center of your chest, or into the crease of your hip and inhaled, deeply, your essence.
I have never run my fingers over the roughness of your hands, or traced the lines of your face.
I have never heard you breathe, or watch you sleep.
I have never fed you.
I have never heard your laugh, or felt you cry and kissed the wetness from your lashes.
I’ve never felt the softness of your flannel shirt against my bare skin, or anticipated the sound of your footsteps.
But I know you…
And I care…