Poetry Corner
by Kathie Bird
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An Ordinary Workday My green chair - so glad it rocks and swivels My small bit of movement in this tiny room Where the parade of human containers Take turns in the other chair - face to face Everything open - nothing to hide behind I watch the eyes for glazing and movement I watch the lips for that slight tremble I watch the hands for clenching and rubbing and playing with wedding rings I watch the legs for hints of flee I watch and match the messages with the clues And look for those pathways to pain ...I feel used, he says - then sobs and sobs ...then she held the gun to my head and said, I could just blow these kids away, he chuckles, his eyes narrowing She plays with the piece of pen that she just snapped in two... my mom, she got mad and hit me when I told her about the priest... Begins poking hard at the skin of her wrist with the jagged plastic. He called me to the kitchen, said this is because of you, and then pulled the trigger. His face was gone - I heard someone screaming - I guess it was me. She says, completely calm - robot - the pain tightly tied... ...and thats where I found her - bloody - naked - dead - in the bushes - my beautiful daughter... She starts with a soft cry that soon turns to a keening wail, while her baby grandson joins her with his own. I listen - empathize somehow - concentrate on draining it all down - away - through the soles of my feet - back to Mother earth - need to move slightly - rock - swivel, absorb, respond - find a way to help make sense of such ugliness - find a way to help rid the being of pain - find a way to remember and remind - that the world is not completely insane. Copyright April 3, 2001, Kathie Bird |