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Thud, Kathunka, Thud
And to think that everything in the world starts with love
A man and a woman are sitting
in a café with their eyes locked and their hearts thudding
with that intangible look in their eyes and their wish
to speak the words “I love you and I miss
you” even though they are there together and their hands
are intertwined. She uses her finger to trace along the bones in his hands
and trace invisible hearts onto his cream-colored skin to show her love
for him without speaking the words aloud. She knows she must leave or else she’ll miss
her bus. The god forsaken bus that takes her away from him where she must sit
in seclusion, staring through the grime streaked windows at the sun wishing
that she could relax in the sun’s rays in his arms as her heart begins to thud
faster and faster. Her heart races flutters and thuds
so loudly she thinks the whole bus can hear and the palms of her hands
start to sweat because of that false memory that she wishes
were true. Oh, how the girl wishes it were true, as true as her love
for the man, who remains in that café with his cup of coffee sitting
staring out the front window of that café as he checks his phone for a missed
call or a text message from a friend that he missed
because he could not hear or feel the vibration from his phone over the sound of the thudding
of his heart as he ate lunch with the woman, sitting
at the table by the window in the sunlight that made the skin of his hands
look luminescent. The light that reflected off his skin made him think how love
made him glow and have that aura of happiness around him. He wished
that the girl would be thinking of him as she looked up at the night sky later and made her wish
and that maybe that wish would come true and shorten that agonizing period of time of missing
each other. Oh, how the man was madly in love
with that woman. He imagined going to her apartment unannounced and knocking, thudding
on her door until she came to the door, with a smile on her face, TV remote in hand
and her asking him if he’d like to come in an sit
a while with her on the green and tan striped couch. They would sit
and talk about things of the world and what they wished
for the future. Their fingers would intertwine like vines as they held hands
on that green and tan striped couch. The phones could ring off the hook but they wouldn’t care about the missed
calls they were receiving. The only significant sounds in their world was the sounds of the thudding
of their hearts syncing up to one another, in the perfect harmony called love.
Fingers like vines sprouting from their hands becoming inseparable as they sit
there, fully enveloped in the love they have wished
for their entire lives. Miss becomes Mrs. and the two thuds become one thud.
Wants
The heaviness in my chest
Sits there
I am chained
To this heavy rock
Left out to dry
Like an old Greek goddess
Is tied to the stone
I want this heaviness to be gone
It is the point where
The earth and the sky meet
The point where Atlas
holds the skies from crashing down
It is that type of pressure
In my chest that comes from wanting
Wanting
Wanting
To do the right thing
I want to be the best I can be
Just being the best for me and the people around me
I want the right thing to be easy
But then it’s not the right thing anymore
The right thing is never easy
My breathing becomes labored
From all the stress
From doing the right thing
Looking back
Reflectively
To see if it really was right
I know my morals
I’m not willing to compromise
And that is when I realize
That the Atlas pressure in my chest
Will never be relieved as long as
I want
To do the right thing
Phone Calls From Home
We fell asleep on the phone
And I awoke to you snoring at 4 AM
I still wish you were here with me
Even though I was interrupted
I awoke to you snoring at 4 AM
Well before my alarm was supposed to go off
Even though my sleep was interrupted
The pseudo-alarm annoyed me
Well before my alarm was supposed to go off
I stared at the underside of the bunk for what seemed like hours
The pseudo-alarm annoyed me
My eyelids refusing to close or open
I stared at the underside of the bunk for what seemed like hours
I was hoping and praying I wouldn’t be up all night
My eyelids refusing to close or open
They are stuck in the in between
I was hoping and praying I wouldn’t be up all night
Especially since I am without you
They are stuck in the in between
Hoping to see your face and not just hear your voice
Especially since I am without you
I still wish you were here with me
Hoping to see your face and not just hear your voice
We fell asleep on the phone
Love is a Grandma
Falling asleep on the couch
The elderly woman sleeps on the loveseat
While I fall asleep on the couch
The couch was not anything special
Extra tough fabric covered it
But it did not matter to me
The next morning would be Christmas
The smell of Kielbasa already permeated my thoughts
And my stomach was in the eternal state of hunger
The sound of EWTN filled the air as well as
A couple Christmas songs here and there
I snuggled up on the couch for the night
Awaiting the morning when the rest of my family would arrive
The morning arrived and I was more than glad to wake up
Next to the her
She had fallen asleep with one of her yarn creations in her lap
Even though she was weak
From endless rounds of chemo that didn’t work
She still continued
To make baby hats for premature babies
At the local hospital
In the morning she would greet me with a warm smile
The kind that you could only get from your grandma
Because grandma smiles are different than regular ones
Those kind of smiles are the ones that radiate warmth
Even on the coldest of December days
Occasionally she would send me
My little ten year old self
To go check the garage
Whenever we heard the door open
And to help my relatives with the food and gifts
That they brought to share
I miss the days when grandma was at Christmas
But I haven’t had one with her since 8th grade
Even though the sounds and the smells have stayed the same
Holiday’s just aren’t the same without my loving grandma.
The Place I Used To Go
The place I used to go was an incredible place
It had trees
A stream
A pond
And an old abandoned house that used to be a mill
The grindstones and a few bricks
Were all that were left
There were dirt pathways worn in by does and by bucks
And the places where the grasses were matted down
Where those deer liked to sleep
And to dream
The place that I used to go was a place where imagination ran wild
I used to imagine what it was like to climb down the side of the valley
Through the lush green trees
Through the meadows
Where wildflowers and grasses grew
And live in that house
I used to imagine what the people who lived there were like
Did they have children?
Or pets?
What did they like to do when the day’s work was done?
I came up with many different options but I will never really know
The place I used to go was full of life
Everything was so green
Some place you would think existed in a fairy tale
Wild animals were everywhere
From the birds in the trees
To the fish in the stream
The sky and the water and everything in between
The cliff on the far side of the valley
Seemed to have some magical power to grow
Vines and other shrubs out of its vertical surface
The shale by the stream always provided the best skipping stones
The place I used to go does not exist anymore
The valley has been filled in
With dirt and stone
And pavement had been laid over top
Every day thousands of people in airplanes
Cross over top of what used to be
That place I used to go
The Contents of the Closet
Two doors stand in a remembered room
Against the walls
A light shade of pink
Adorned with left over memories
Pictures and stickers
They slide on a track that could really use some grease
With a grip on the old brass handle
And some effort
The doors open
They open unto old clothes and old shoes
Things that the daughter left when she went away to college
There are old concert t-shirts
Hung up on the hangers
Not taken because the daughter wanted
A more sophisticated wardrobe
The concerts they came from were wild and a mess
But here they now hang
All clean and pressed
There are other things in there besides clothes and shoes
There’s an old tin canister with the daughter’s name scrolled on top
It was where she collected the cards she received
Reminding her of times past
And of senders who now lie six feet under
There is an old rolled up rug that used to lay on the floor
But she’s put it away cause it didn’t fit anymore
There is an old wooden chess set
That still smells of wood stain
But it sits there untouched
Because the daughter’s moved on to makeup and boyfriends
So abandoned on the top shelf this chess set now stands
The Battle
Explosion
Screaming
Yelling
Tears fall down
Down
Down
Never both at once
An alternating flood from either side
And a
Knock
Knock
Knock
A march through the hall
With a slow trudge
One with a vindication
The other with fake tears
Oh, what a lovely pair they make
Studies
Sitting
Breathing
My abdomen rises and falls
Will he be late again?
Or will the new boundaries
Fall.
Fall to the ground, to be consumed
In the linoleum
The squeak of a chair
That rips open a chasm in
That linoleum floor
From underneath the
Gray, flecked linoleum
Comes a bubbling
Writhing
Mess
Not solid
Not liquid
Not air
Time passes but the setting is familiar
But it is also entirely different
This time chatter ensues
But it seems to be only for a select few
