KINGDOMS.
She never looked up.
the cigarette dangled from her fingers
graceful as a Hollywood starlet,
smoke soldiers guarding her head
as I passed
her kitchen table kingdom.
She never spoke.
so I ran outside to the park
where the swings called me to fly
where the leaves waved
dappled sun greetings
smiling at me to stay.
Later she spoke loudly
from boxed ashes in Nebraska
aided by a paid representative
who heaped on me her words
in boxes full of annotated
memorabilia.
I cried hard.
Reading multiple signed notes
in truest “Mommie
Dearest” fashion,
her disappointment guarded
more tightly than she’d ever
guarded me.
I’m learning to look up
from the ashes of my dreams
back to the green-ness of the trees
back to the welcoming sunlit leaves,
to learn to guard my joys more tightly
than my hurts.
jle 2012
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