Memory fills its empty room With sunlight filtered through Children’s drawings taped to Window panes. Soft orange Glows all around the abandoned Bed frame where an open box Of inheritance rests next to A discarded Chinese whip.
Distortions, all distortions, Have peeled away the wall Exposing stucco wavelets And a mirror refracting Those images from childhood That block the full light From the gazebo outside.
This is the reward for kindness, For burying both parents, And for living without purpose Or children or siblings or Friends to help get through The holidays, because friends Are not family, and family No longer care to exist.
Poem
ReplyDeleteMemory fills its empty room
With sunlight filtered through
Children’s drawings taped to
Window panes. Soft orange
Glows all around the abandoned
Bed frame where an open box
Of inheritance rests next to
A discarded Chinese whip.
Distortions, all distortions,
Have peeled away the wall
Exposing stucco wavelets
And a mirror refracting
Those images from childhood
That block the full light
From the gazebo outside.
This is the reward for kindness,
For burying both parents,
And for living without purpose
Or children or siblings or
Friends to help get through
The holidays, because friends
Are not family, and family
No longer care to exist.
[Disposable Poem March 5, 2011]
Dr. Mike