My Life In Seasons

After Doc Luben

Winter

Well I’m on the downeaster Alexa

and I’m cruising through Block Island Sound.

You always told me giving birth wasn’t painful

but I never believed you. You named me

after this song. Born under a rising January sun,

I hate the cold. I liked it better

when I was tucked under your lungs, warm

and encased in your body. The armor of your ribcage

firm against my spine. I’d fold my hands and listen to the prayer

of your heartbeat. 123-123-123-123,

a steady 12/8 thumping, pumping

your blood to me. The world is so cold, Mom.

We had my birthday parties at the indoor pool,

ate the cake in front of the oven, still hot from baking. On christmas eve,

when the cousins opened their gifts, I’d sit in front of the evergreen candles

you bought too many of

and dip my fingers in the puddles,

watching the wax congeal as it singed my thumbs. I never

told you that. I don’t know how we forgive

ourselves for all the things we did not say before it was too late.

Summer

You spent hours weeding the jungle of rocks in front of the house. I never

wanted to help. I was playing in the yard when I paused

to ask you where babies come from.

You told me, “You just have to tell God you’re ready,” so I ran to the oak tree

and sobbed, screaming at god that I wasn’t ready. I never

had a baby. God must have really liked me.

Same season, different year

a boy slid into my bed with me, a boy you liked,

a mattress you and I picked out together, Mom. You came home

two hours later, my hair no longer disheveled,

my shirt buttoned to the brim. I don’t remember

if I said hello to you. My body,

on the hottest day of the year, froze. My period three days late.

My world three lifetimes different. Crumpled on the bathroom floor,

I screamed at God that I wasn’t ready. I’m sorry

I didn’t scream at you, Mom,

sweaty, rotten tears of how i wasn’t ready. I never

had a baby. God must have really liked me.

I hopped off the ledge of the oak tree

and came back to where you were weeding.

You saw my puffy face and walked me to the lilac bush,

told me to pick the most beautiful bundle

I could find, and prop it in the vase on the kitchen counter. I was so excited

the flowers would finally get to see the inside of the house,

but so guilty they’d die because of me.

Spring

When the sky is blue in Waupaca, the whole world

echoes the hue. I can’t explain how it works,

but apparently the sky is blue because it’s every colour but blue,

reflecting blue. I don’t know why I still trust the sky

when i think about this, Mom. Inside, you’d cook your lasagna.

Seasoned noodles and creamy ricotta on overflowing plates. I don’t remember

what we talked about at dinner. I do remember

begging to pray, shouting at everyone to shut up so I could lead. “Bless us, Oh Lord

and these thy gifts which we are about to receive

from thy bounty through Christ Our Lord, amen.” I’m sorry I don’t remember

what we talked about, Mom. I can’t imagine

how we forgive ourselves for all the things we did not remember before it was too late.

Fall

What do you call the tree with all the leaves?

My bed, where my pillows sometimes fall to the floor

when I thrash, causing thunderstorms in my sleep.

Autumn leaves tiptoeing from my maple tree mattress.

You came to visit me last week. This is where

I live now. It is strange

to give a tour to someone whose body used to be your home.

When I’m scared, I don’t crawl into your bed, Mom. I pop two ibuprofen,

stare between the shutters at the Marian Courtyard, and wonder

if you’re tossing, too. Once when I couldn’t sleep,

I squished myself into your bed

and asked you to sing to me.

Well I’m on the downeaster Alexa,

and I go where the ocean is deep.

There are giants out there in the canyons,

and a good captain can't fall asleep.

Your chest still my favorite pillow,

your rhythm steady as I remember

123-123-123-123

I’ve never fallen asleep so quickly.

Reviews

[Writer at last! Sky ~]

Extremely brilliant presentation of the art. I loved your poem from the bottom of my heart. While I was reading your each line, I lost myself into the world of imagination.

Your chest still my favorite pillow,
your rhythm steady as I remember
123-123-123-123
I’ve never fallen asleep so quickly..

Please keep writing and sharing your poems. Lots of blessing for you :)