claire can't see me.

a mom who is cooler in words than in life.

eulogy for him

last night while walking down the hall
bedroom light illuminating my steps
i caught a glimpse of my shadow
& i realized i am not the same
i am no longer slight
my print along the wall in no way resembles
the shadow you made me
many midnights ago
top heavy & heaving
crumbled legs, bent & begging
distorted portions
elongated arms always stretching towards
an empty ceiling
in some sort of prayer stance
i seemed
wailing with my body
a flower in a hurricane
with you as the ground
i was uprooted quickly
flipped over
& turned in half
my legs broaden your shadow’s shoulders
from below you resemble a mountain
mt rushmore etched stone face
& i’m just a visitor, admiring the magnitude of you
standing far removed from any actual view
of the details
i wonder now what i looked like
from way up there 
on the unsteady edge of your nose
did your sight travel through the flesh
forest of my limbs to see
the camp fire of my brown eyes 
lit & smoky & flickering
or did you only see the smoke signals moans
floating around your head
quickly dissipating into raincloud sweat
extinguished passion, my eyes couldnt see
the polar opposites
our shadows created
north & south points
a tug of war in body parts
i thought i was winning
when your statue came crashing down
but when the dusk settled
& the dawn came blowing truth through the blinds
sending shadows into hiding
you too were gone
& i realized in the morning
that my shadow hadn’t been dancing at all
it was trembling.  

this i remember, in your name.

last night while walking down the hall
bedroom light illuminating my steps
i caught a glimpse of my shadow
rounded, full, changed 
& i skipped back to bed.

1 Comment»

  trE wrote @

I liked this; the language, the metaphors, the happy-go-lucky sort of ending (w/ the “skipping back to bed), and the power w/in your words. This was very good to read for a Tuesday evening, post stressful day at work.

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