Friday, September 3, 2010

the living room is a staple of the American family

you don't remember (how can you not remember)
this is how a mother speaks
memory, speak

your eyes are lit in 16 year neuron firework
i am reaching toward a
nursing infant

the door slams so closely against my face
i feel it's soft sob and shake

the great cry of your unknown heart
pouring in drywall
in staccato

the Mormons at the door assure me
God will protect

all night the living room we hold hands, look
toward your room
the tv

silent, the perfect Poltergiest
a vortex in the place of
our faces

my worst fears live inside the couch
they eat our sweat
like candy.

* said...

Beautiful poem. Loved the couch, the poltergeist, the Mormon bit (I am a Mormon).


Maggie May said...

mormon was just a fitting label for the idea i was looking to represent. nothing against Mormons. :)

Amber said...

it wasn't offensive, there are so many LDS on blogging websites, and yeah they hope it WILL be alright. As a former mormon at your door I think it will be alright too. rest easy, all you can do is care, love, respond fairly, and love some more. OR you could tie him up and lock him in the closet for at least another 16 could that be bad? Then you would for sure rest easy!! ;)
but like the mormons are always saying: this too shall pass, you can only hope that you handled it the best way possible. I am thinking you nipped it in the butt before it got out of hand... and now you are fully aware of what's going on.

Marion said...

Beautiful poem, Maggie May, just perfect. I love the door's sob... You have a gift.

My husband's aunt is Mormon and back in the 70's she sent many misisonaries to try to convert us heathens. We ended up taking them with us to see Dr. Zhivago once where they got busted because their bishop was there. LOL! (They weren't suppopsed to go to movies. Bad influences, we were.)

Thanks for sharing your heart. Blessings!

Ms. Moon said...

Anxiety, leaking into the couch. Yes. Beauty from fear. You do that.

Annie said...

Hi Maggie,
A powerful poem with beauty and depth. We want them to remember, how it was when they were small, and they trusted our every word, our every motion, our every glance- We want them to understand that now, when we rail at them for their faults, when we cry for their mistakes, we are also celebrating the child we know they are, the child who loves and thinks and feels free, open to the world and its beauty. We want that for them, again and always. We can only watch and guide so much, and hope they will remember, all we did, how we tried, and that we love them. It hurts when they slam the door.

Maggie May said...

Annie that is exactly it. You said so very beautifully just what I feel.

Corinne Cunningham said...

So equally beautiful and painful.

Anonymous said...

but i am not a mormon.

always wanting more... and more!!

i am working on the Fall issue of my Mag, if you want to send me something, poem or drawing or whatever, email me!!

if you don´t, no problem, but that would make me soooo happy... hehe.

you write like a genius.

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