icarus

icarus
concrete arroyo
swimming treacherously
over the head
of my king sized bed
leftover
from a grandiose boy

icarus
burn and crash
my babies
in my arms
lord let them
fall
on top

the stench
of rubber smolder
rotten apples
water logged roots

morning glories
marigolds
toasted chili

crickets in the heat
vandals bored
ripping siding
on the crack shack
broken single wide

tori
croon to me
heal me
open my throat
release me

fly away icky poo
i love you
carry me away

the sun
hanging sheets
stiff after washing
where little boy
pees on his nightmares

everyday
stretch them on the line
walk the line
silently
walk away
run away
fly away

falcons on the top
snatch my babies
away
tuck them in
to a nest with no nightmares

my dream catcher
like a web
after the storm
shredded and choked
letting the goblins in

take them away
over the sea
to a never never land
with no crack shacks
no molesters
no bullies

some pain
lingers
with
cold sharp fingers
still clawing
through the dust blown top soil
after the sun rises

kitten bites
nips
weaned too small
his feral mama
gone swimming
in the arroyo

fur babies
to hold
in my empty arms
empty heart
dry sobs
dry heaves

i’m his mama now
the world’s mama
crying
over babies
not mine not mine
nothing i can do

wish i could
shoot a fire
burn the meth lab
tie a knot
hang the rapist
with his scrotum
wish i could
wish i could

sing and scream
wish i could
give birth in love
give them the world
save the world

About m

My ego wants to think I'm a writer but my heart knows I'm just another one of God's Kids who sometimes has words to say. 2 human kids and 3 feline kids call me Mom. Or Mooooooom. Or mewom, depending which you ask. I'm kinda-sorta busy being a student again; this time I signed myself up for a bizarre torture known as Graduate School. Theoretically in 4ish years I'll have earned some more nice letters to put with my name. Let's face it, I'm addicted to learning and probably need rehab to restore me to sanity and remove the obsession to read books. I don't remember what free time is but I think I like to spend it sleeping or playing in the mud on a river bank.
This entry was posted in abuse, cats, domestic violence, motherhood, poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to icarus

  1. Pingback: Top 14 of 2014 | stories of survival

  2. Pingback: 1996-2016: A Sample of 20 Years | the liminal life of m

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