24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Depression
is like being trapped
in a cardboard box
if I were small enough to fit
in the boxes from amazon
that arrive full of cat food cans
taped shut
no ventilation
the darkness
playing tricks on me
strange shapes dancing along
my eyelids
when I scratch at the sides
and tiny rays of light
manage to creep through
they are blinding
causing my skin to glow
in a tiny constellation of stars
the box proves
to be impermanent
and I scratch harder
There’s a demon inside me, always on the prowl
The pitter-pat of little feet
Echoes off the hardwood floor
Her big brown eyes look up at me
From just outside the office door
“It’s nappytime!” she seems to say
Although she utters not a word
She climbs my legs onto my lap
Ensuring ev’ry grunt gets heard
She beckons, “Mommy, time for bed!”
With her tiny yet full-bodied sigh
Too tired to sit, she’s had enough
And rests her head on Mommy’s thigh
“Okay, you win, time for a nap!”
I smile and softly stroke her head
Picking the dog up off my lap,
My muse and I crawl into bed.
Honeybun, aka My Muse
Tears rolled down my cheeks,
My car backed out of the drive.
A deep breathe as I waved good-bye.
My first house as an adult,
Leaving it behind.
All I knew was behind me as I shifted into drive.
My car full of boxes, things I forgot for the movers to take.
My tears flowed for quite a while, fearing a mistake.
Everything has brought us to this point. You were lost for so many years
and I was too blind to see it. We ran in circles for eternity trying to deny ourselves the pleasure we deemed ourselves unworthy of, our thoughts being our biggest adversary in the unruly war against normality.
We couldn’t tell anyone what it meant because we weren’t even sure ourselves but, once everything coalesced, I knew it was time to begin. There is no obstacle that can stop me, no risk I will not take to rectify who we once were. As the entire universe is my witness, I will never experience an oneiric adventure ever again until we get back to where we once belonged. Lennon would be so proud.
animkiig
standing on the lake shore. black sky arches in a perfect “c,” cupping the lake as if to hold it in its palm. the lightning comes toward me. in front of me.
behind me a group of people, concerned for their safety, cry for protection from the storm. i tell them they are safe with me. on the horizon
with the flash of lightning
the animkiig come. i turn to the people
“they are here for me. go now!”
beating wings whip wind around me
sharp feathers slice me.
i see them come
claws reaching down,
digging deep into the flesh of my shoulder,
left shoulder
to perch
or carry me off with them.
i knew they came for me to stand in the place of the others…
as i stood in this storm on this slate grey shore on this ink black lake.
(c) r.l. elke
A shy girl
Who looks up to their teacher
They get in a talk
And laugh quite a lot
However it happened
Together they sit
In the teacher’s car
And drive somewhere
The teacher still talks
And turns away from the wheel
The shy girl is happy
There is no shy no more
It so happens
That the highway grows smaller
And the car – not being controlled
Crashes over the boundary, drives over some grass and back on the highway
At first it seems alright
They continue to drive
But then the car gets slower
And stops on a drawn-on-the-street rotary traffic
Both get out and look at it
No bad damage they see
So, they calmly wait for help
While they chat and tell stories
I wish I knew
Virginia Carraway Stark
I wish I knew
A million years ago
what I know today
with the world
spinning faster
thousands of years go by every day
how many millions of years ago was it
that I sat in the forest and listened to
the crow say hello, hello, how are you?
how many thousands of years ago was it
that I lost my mother?
my child?
my brother?
was it a hundred years ago or a thousand or more that I was hit by a car?
all time and space have lost their place
in the immensity of the global events
but I recall when the I touched the tree bark
and saw the mushrooms sprout with joy
I know that that was millions of years ago
and in a dimension far far away
As I’ve grown, I’ve become more reckless.
As a child, I set my bedtime
at 7:30, arguing that I was growing and required more
sleep. My mother laughed and still tells the story.
As a preteen, I mapped out my life— college
would get me out of my small town (it did); college
would crack open the world like a pecan.
I placed pins in the world map that hung
like a prayer in my closet— never go back to Summerville.
But college is expensive, and I come
from Poverty. What to do?
Babysit neighborhood children and young cousins.
Sell artwork to classmates for their lockers
(Blastoise was my best seller).
Create jewelry and sell it door-to-door.
Craft animals from pipe cleaners (fingers
are easily torn by wire ends— a cautionary tale) and sell
them widely— teachers placed custom orders
for the holidays.
As a teen, my savings grew. I was accepted to Duke
(out of state!). I wrote that I wouldn’t marry
until I was 30, after I bought my house
with the red door and owned a Mustang.
Love is cloudy and makes the mind brackish.
As a teenager, I birthed my child to laughter. 16.
Savings (paltry) drained.
As a mother, days were precise. Feeding at 10am.
15 minutes for snuggling and burping. 45 minutes
for play. 30 minutes to read together.
Nap at noon. Scheduled. Written.
Posted on the white refrigerator.
Kindergarten— four baby carrots, eight cubes
of Muenster cheese, ziplock bag of Goldfish,
box of apple juice. 30 minutes for homework.
Play until 6pm. Dinner. 45 minutes
to read together. Quality time (TM).
Now I speak of running to the edge of the Cliffs
of Moher to see the waves eat at the cliff face
300 feet down, of riding a yellow Kawasaki Ninja
until I landed on my head, of no fear, of no
dinner because I forgot, of “What day is it?,”
of poetry.
Poetry has made me reckless.
I was born old
like my father before me
but it was always in my mind
Now I feel old
in my body, and in my mind
tired
I am always so tired
And I just can’t be the way I was before.
My joints crack, my head aches, my muscles are soft
and struggle to do the things that came easily to them
I feel old
Is it my schedule, my diet, my outlook on life?
Has the world beaten me back or have I defeated myself.
They say its all downhill after 25,
and right now that certainly feels true.
But you know what is the worst part?
I can’t sit down and eat like I used to.
16 year old me, you have no idea how lucky you were.
You were strong, you were fast, and my god you could eat whatever you wanted and a lot of it.
Like, a lot.
Goodbye, fair princess of yesteryear.
I am breaking down, little by little…
I need to run more.