Wednesday, January 16, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 16 - To some folks it means somethin'. To some folks it don't.

I remember the blood 
Bowl of fruit 
Baby blue walls 
The voices
But that's it
Makela said there were stained glassed windows and ceramic floors but...
We don't talk about it anymore

We always walked
Her thighs my heart
We never wondered why we were so easy to respond
He came out of 259 Elm Grove
On the other side of Beacon Way 
Where the watermelon truck used to be
Before the gas station closed

He was old with a limp and tattered clothes
No teeth and black billfold
We didn't want his money

He asked us to please go inside and help him with his cat
He would give us fifty dollars if we went in for his cat
Who needs help with a cat?

I smelled the oranges first
Makela saw Baby Jesus in the window
At the same time we noticed the bowls of blood
Next to the red apples and strawberry

We don't know why we didn't leave
Made our way to the kitchen instead
Somebody mentioned Grandmother Hattie
Somebody else said something about rain
Wouldn't stop about the rain
On a day like that
Only about the rain

There was a room full of voices and no bodies
No cat and no old man
Voices about communion and the cross
Singing voices
Preaching voices
Voice in the corner said her name was Scotland
Said she knew everything there was to know about
My great grandfather Drake

It seemed like the whole day
But we were there maybe an hour
Hearing voices tell stories about
Life before our time
There was never a why we were chosen
No truth about the cat
No revelation on the voices
Or how they knew the what

Just 259 
An old man with a lie
And voices about folks I never knew
That won't turn off in my sleep
On my drive
When I'm awake
While I write

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