Ages

poetryyI’m 5

With a cardboard cutout witch’s hat,

A crepe paper cape and a wooden toy broom

Standing on the stoop, all baby belly

And poised to fly off into the Indian summer dusk

To ring the first doorbell and

Sing “Trick-or-Treat!”

 

15

New Year’s Eve, Orange Grove Blvd.

After midnight

Monolithic shadows, when the sun comes up,

Will be all colors, flowers, seeds and sunlight

On top of one will be the Queen

17, sparkling with accomplishment

and glowing with optimism

that’s so not me

because I’m drunk and I can’t remember how I got home

 

25

I turn around

The shards of glass still falling

And there’s blood on the floor

On the inside of my thighs

Dripping on my toes

I probably shouldn’t have drank so much

Or walked through that plate glass door

Or gotten married that morning.

 

35

I’m a Sumo wrestler

Rocking back and forth,

Swaying to the pain

And then

There’s blood and water

I am an animal squatting and pushing

She’s there – out of me and on top of me

Rooting for my breast

We both cry

Blood, water, breath, life

Before you know it,

She’s five.

hollycardone
Metaphysical, evangelical, progressive Episcopalian postulant, sober, follower of the radically inclusive love healer, Jesus. Poet/preacher/teacher/storyteller.

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