Growth

On Saturday morning she slipped into unconsciousness.  Once the doctor had confirmed what they already knew his father retreated to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee.  Jack also drifted out, not giving a reason why.  

Jonah reached over and took his mother's hand.  As she left them all behind something about her seemed so peaceful—so beautiful—that Jonah did not let go of her hand again until the nurse came in.

Loss

This sea          filled with raging suspicions

polluted by the debris         of 1000 amazing inventions

not one in which I could believe

Control

Her glassy eyes drove me mad.  In a fit of rage, I ran into the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife I could find.  She said something in that dull, mechanical voice of hers but no longer listening, I slapped her down onto the counter.  I then raised the knife high in the air like a human guillotine and smashed it across her neck. 

Her round plastic head jerked back.  As it teetered on the edge of the counter she cast me one last glassy-eyed look.  Finally her head fell to the ground and rolled across the linoleum floor, unimpeded, until it came to rest underneath the industrial sink.

I set the knife aside.  When I pushed my fist into her dolly stomach, nothing happened.  I had done it.  She was silent at last.

Aware

If tomorrow is here then so be it

But don’t ask me to say 
amen because I

won’t believe it I won’t believe it I

won’t believe it

Surrender

Yes, the water is cold

January sea freeze makes even the sand shudder

no warm-weather month in sight

                my molecules for so long racing

                colliding

                begging

                for the slowing

the midnight water is cold for me

this is the time

                In the summer as the ice cream bell was

                                ringing

                watched them running

                knew they would be

     all right

Some fisherman embracing this

icy body

he will find me

by my blue silence he will know

                lost interest in breathing

                this air so full of riddles and

     rhymes

When fear of damnation gave way to fear of life

                always the smoke from my fingertips

                as the flames gutted me inside

cleansed my faith in waiting

hope extinguished with

the coming tide

Because the water is cold here

and hesitation’s wounds were bone dry

                turn my head to the black sky fading

                to the moon deserting what must die

even God in his kingdom

must forgive those who

gasp for breath as

they cry

because the water is cold enough

this once

and I must

                swallow it

                swallow it

fill the thirsting void

tonight

No more debating

when there is nothing for saying

                          I will be all right

Grief

“I suppose someone has to get these things,” his mother told him.  “Statistically speaking, I mean.  My turn just came up.”

Unsure of whether or not she meant this as a joke, Jonah said, “Yeah.  I guess.”

“So the way I see it, I’ve spared someone else the trouble.  And that’s a very nice thing of me to do.  Don’t you think?”

Jonah just stood there, helpless.

“But you know, you shouldn’t be sad,” she went on, now flipping through the coupon section.  “Because someday this will all just be a memory.  And how you remember it will last much longer than the event itself.  So remember it in the way that will make you happiest, okay, sweetie?”

“…Okay,” Jonah answered.  “I’m, uh, going to go make a cup of coffee.”

“You do that, dear.  Don’t let your father near the coffeemaker—it blows up every time he touches it,” his mother said.  She then picked up a pair of scissors and cut out a coupon for laundry detergent.  “Now that’s a good price,” Jonah heard her murmuring to herself, as he hurried away.

                

Empty

Most remained here with me

I gave some to the wind                       the wind that separated my toes

but something stayed crept poked inside

mocking me with icicle whispers to

never mind the frost outside

inside is just as cold

whatever stole into my pillowcase

left me silenced

crystallized the dripping ceiling

buckled the paneled walls

I could never begin to wonder how

it came to happen

how I whimpered for it to go away     

yet still forgetting to scrape off the scent

that yesterday is a dangerous thing

this something has left my cheekbones bruised

this something has cut into my knuckles

why God has given me these fingernails                      I do not know

but maybe forgiveness hides in the mattress

maybe in the frozen droplets trapped

on the branch’s edge...

Most remains here with me