Untitled "So I breed fear in the hands of innocent boys." She said, While reaching for a Kleenex In the usual AA meeting that month On the third Tuesday Tomorrow "YES ME!" I cry into the valley of sober eyes and destroyed lives "YES ME!" I struggle for the words at the knees of my mother grasping for an ankle kicked back slapped back fury back emotions back The situation is abnormal for some, home to others And I think that I love her And I need her And the woman blows her nose Solidly in the granite room On 8th street Park West With the shadows of children Making the night And a bottle is passed around And chants are spoken to the gods And the relatives Wait at the window for salvation And for their corned beef hash That night for supper In the messy bowls left unclean By the demons lurking in the kitchen And I say, "Mother, the TV is on. Listen. Watch. Put down the disease and put down the child-hood nightmares of cousins touching and teeth clattering cold and alone with no one to throw you a bone" and the Kleenex is stuffed into her pocket with so many others dripping with tears of their own disillusion.
Kate Skola's Questions:
I would like to know if this is too scattered and the if the image is
unclear. Is there anything that deeply confuses the reader? Sometimes I
realize my poetry is very hard to readily understand but I would like to
know if there is anything too off.