Tuesday, April 8, 2008

sad songsters .99

You stand at the base of my temples
Scuffing about the indentions
Your sun-struck hands like your father's---me

I often think what sun you see,
The name of your flowers,
If your hair still needs oil
To ease the love-stress of fighting coils
Like when you winced at 3, 10 through 14,
Love and frustration planted around your brows
And at each age, I took you in
Not knowing why I touched your shoulders,
Traced your high-cheek smile,
Examined you with my heart for no reason
Bent over a poster, maddening it with
Junior high wisdom, eating a purple-blue pop tart

And every once in a while,
I broke in with spoken words--
An intent to hear your voice,
See your face

I now know why I woke you out of sleep
To annoy you with, tweedle deedle dee,
Tweedle dee dee, tweedle deedle dee

Sometimes you laughed out a groggy tune
Sometimes you begged me to get out
Sometimes you just sighed always letting me love you

I don't envy the songsters that sing to you now
They may be brighter than me and live in dreams
But they only know your spirit

They can't touch your hair and make it grow
They can't cook you pancakes or tea cakes or open your pop tarts
They can't smell your sweet breath full of laughter and sometimes bubblegum
They can't take pictures of you and hang them
on a living heart
They can't purchase you petite earrings or paint your nails with clear polish

No, I think not.

They won't ever see you embarrassed like the
Times I popped the back of your bra
And mine was too little for you to find

I wonder what you see, if you see me

But I don't envy the sad songsters that surround
The touchless you

1 comment:

Shawna said...

heartbreaking, beautiful poems. thank you.