Deception

“I am not a witch,” she told me, “I am a goddess.  And so will you be, as long as you do what you’re told.”

I didn't believe her.  But too afraid to challenger her on this, I only asked, “You were my mother once, weren’t you?”

The witch smiled.  “The universe is our mother,” she answered.  From underneath her robes she then produced a baby doll--the kind little girls pushed around in tiny strollers, and kissed good night.  “You will take this," the witch told me.  "But beware: she will watch you and report whatever you say or do.  She never sleeps, and she never blinks.  You might think you’ve fooled her, but you won’t have.  She exists for only one purpose.   You cannot kill her.  You cannot win.”

I looked down into the baby doll's glassy blue eyes.  It was over.  Nothing would ever feel safe again.

Unknown

go ahead      

say it was supposed to be so

that the color of light would blind me

and the mystery of this starry night would deny me

the reason why I loved you

more than snow on my

birthdays in 

December

Unprepared

The bar was noisy, filled with people watching Monday night football.  But there really wasn't anything to be done for it, so Jonah told Jack, "There's something you should know.  It’s about Mom.”

Still watching the monitor over Jonah's head, Jack said, “What about her?  Did she burn another pot roast on Sunday?”

“Yeah.  And she’s got a brain tumor.”

Jack whipped his head back toward Jonah.  “A what?”

“A brain tumor.  They can’t operate on it.  Dad says she’s got a few months.”

“To live?”

“Yeah.”

Jack sat back in the booth.  He looked as if someone had just hit him in the stomach with an empty beer pitcher.  “Holy shit,” he finally said.  “How long have you known?”

“Since yesterday.”

"Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Well…you know how they are."

Jack snorted.  “Do I ever.  But only a few months…really?” 

Jonah nodded.

“But she still has all of her hair and whatever!”

“They’re not going to do chemo.  It won’t help, so Mom doesn’t want it.”

“What about Dad?”

“He said it’s up to her.”

“Oh, great.  He’s leaving critical life-or-death decisions up to the biggest ditz on the face of the planet,” Jack said, and grabbed his coat.  “I’m going over there.  Someone has to talk some sense into her, and it seems like I’m the only one in this family willing to do it.  I’ll see you later.”

Sanctuary

I chose to come here.

But the sadness

            the sadness...

It crackles.

Reckoning

Spread your arms      wide

dive

the snow envelops my knees

it makes me want to believe     in you

your candle is dim  a flickering light

in sight on top of the hill

I am pushing

a thousand clouds to insulate the sky

only the beat of the ice crunching     underneath my feet

purple the color of your hidden majesty

in this river flood of oncoming night

                               

play your sad drums for me

underneath the tree

up there on our crayon hill

keep it steady           keep it still

but in a minute I am undone

I cannot cannot leave you now

in the world all gray I wanted to feel

zephyrs and sunrise against my face

it looked so warm

                it looked so warm

from the other side

so I strapped on my wings

took to your sky

                blinded by a million sparkling dreams

                snowflakes falling into infinity

the howling drums of wind and war echoing

around me…

 and then the

candle

                went out

                               

               

Disturbed

Hello, monkey.  How are you today?

Swinging around.  Swinging around.  Chaos everywhere.

Disbelief

“Oh, it’s some kind of tumor.”  His mother waved a dismissive hand.  “Who can understand a thing those doctors say nowadays?”

Horrified, Jonah returned, “Are you going to be all right?”

“Hmmmn.  Now where did I put that phone number again?”

“Mom,” Jonah loudly interrupted, “are you going to be all right?”

“What, dear?  Oh, that.  No, I don’t think so.  Tumors aren’t good, you know, and they can’t operate on it for some reason or another.”

“What are you saying?  Are you going to die?”

“Well, we’re all going to die, dear.”

“I mean soon!”

“It seems that way.  Can you help me find this phone number?”

Jonah stood there, watching his mother search the roll top desk that used to sit in Grandma Mueller’s dining room.  She’d mis-buttoned the back of her housedress, so that one of the tiny pink plastic buttons stuck out on top by the collar.  “Cheer up sleepy Jean,” she was singing to herself.  “Oh, what can it mean?  To a daydream believer, and a homecoming queen…”