Friday, July 1, 2016

why not me?

why not me, mlb

She gets the first word because she has time to
While I carry the day 
in heaping loads of laundry & lunches
She drifts freely

Like a wild toddler following his emotions
Chasing bubbles across the yard, 
innocent but callous
And the world parts for Her
Why not me?

She points fingers that twist & curl like sour milk
While I load dishes into an overfilled machine
Barefoot pouring coffee & slicing morning bread
Listening for the creak of the bathroom door

She floats by me like mist, her bones ghostly untouchable
While my body thick & soft 
is kneaded & reshaped into the lee of a mother 
Starved only for a small scrap of the time She tosses away so carelessly

She whips like water against the haul of my craft-I can hear her knocking,mocking the blistered crew
But She won’t ever come in

She dances hot & dry in her own head
While I am drenched with little voices whispering out from their universes 
Their needs blanketing me 
weighted & loud like winter-rain

She tosses her chin in anger pushing back any who would dare to doubt her

Ignores the night by turning on all the lights
holding court, basking in her own reflection
While I travel by the light leaking in the small panes running the servant's stairs 

If I was like Her I would go off chasing antelope
bath in re-factions of light
drown myself in words
Marie Antoinette the children at the garden gate
and forever sleep in the hot sand

Why not me?

…Because it never was.
And it never will be.
Even though, sometimes I wish it were.


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