2005-09-07 - 5:30 p.m.
If you clicked on the banner that had part of a poem on it and you want to read the rest goto http://lesbfriends6.diaryland.com/troubleinpa.html
I wrote this poem on my birthday back in June. It is untitled
One then a dozen then a dozen more
shuffle stumble
flop as fish on the stinking trash heap streets of the city.
Gasping for breath, so excited to be dying
one year closer to being breaded and frying.
12 blocks away
A woman is fixing her face
An hour in front of a mirror
thinking with mighty compact time can be erased, or at least shifted to fit her resolve.
She holds her head high as she paints with mascara but her eyes roll back and stick on herself: little clips: piecing together the transition between impatient anticipation and dread.
now she can't understand where she came from, she couldn't wait to be this old.
She looks like a slide show
These separate ages disagreeing about which is taken out of context.
4 hours earlier
and 2 floors down, a mother and son.
He plays with his dump truck and blocks
Building little houses, playing out his dreams
She looks at her watch.
Any minute
Any minute now the phone will ring
A doctor, his doctor.
She has played out this scene in every which way but always making sure it turns out right, a happy ending, ever after, she tells herself.
Drumming her fingers
She thinks, just for one second, what if
he didn't... no she stops, then would it be right to tell him, how could I tell him
no she pauses breathing out heavily
Beads of sweat form on her temples
like a trip wire set them in motion.
The thoughts, she had been using all her strength to keep out, break the barrier.
She feels like a water balloon clinging to a rusty spigot in a room full of pins.
She speaks to them like they are irrational fears saying one more inch and I'll pop.
But they are all too real and their
points she sees are on the outside.
With no way to calm these fears she breaks upon realizing that by next year
he may be gone and she would still be here.
The phone rings
receiver to ear, salutations no other pleasantries.
She grabs the counter bracing herself
to display her discomfort, out of habit,
(because she has been taught to do so)
But she knows eventually she will have to let go.
And then they come
words. Perfectly aligned. Rehearsed pass through the line.
Farewells. She sets down the receiver slowly
she can't believe it.
12 blocks back
I can't decide whether to celebrate how far I've come. 21 baby-steps.
Or just to realize I am one tick closer to dying.
I just wanted to post some pictures of the damage Katrina has done in hope that people might donate a little more to the people whose lives have been ruined.
The city of New Orleans after Katrina and the flood.
A damaged highway in Biloxi, Mississippi.
A damaged highway in New Orleans.
Biloxi, Mississippi after Katrina and the flood.
In New Orleans after Katrina and the flood.
Some people struggling in the Hurricane.
Please help the survivors of hurricane Katrina put their lives back together. Donate to the American Red Cross.
.trip. - .fall. - .bounce. - .ashes ashes . - .we all. - .fall down.
Got something to say? Well, say it because how else am I gonna know what you're thinking? Only 1 of you has/have opinions?(click on the number to add a comment)
Don't Make Me Hug Myself, I'll Do It!
*HUGS* TOTAL!
give lesbfriends6 more *HUGS*
Get hugs of your own
Click here to read how this page is protected by copyright laws.
............................................................................................I trail off in one sentence out of five
..........................................................................and the rest of the time I just.....
.................................................................................................................................................................................
.
.
..
..
.
.
.
..
..
..
..
.
..
..
..
. .
.
.
..
.
.
.
..
..
..
..
.
powered by SignMyGuestbook.com
.
..
..
.
.
..
..
.
|
moon phases |
