crayon, washable in looping squiggles,
not quite a rainbow, not quite a person
but a family none the less, together.
taken down.
connect the dots ripped
out of a couloring book
after learning how to count.
taken down.
a tracing of a hand, fingertip
feathers yellow, red, &
blue with a beak on the thumb
taken down.
an A- state spelling test
Mississippi & Missouri correct
but Coneticut caused problems.
taken down.
I want to be a fireman, I
want to be an architect, I want
to be a musician.
taken down.
a bundle of receipts, yellow &
white, crumpled & signed
to keep track of the money going out
taken down.
my family is reduced to names
on a shopping list, one square of
wants & a hope for a phone call.
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1 comment:
can i get a goddamn timpany roll to start this goddamn blog comment?
this poem consenses childhood memories together with a distinct sense of loss...not only is this perfect to describe the act of taking memories off the fridge (always a difficult process in my experience), but it looks back on childhood with the same feeling of forgetting, moving on, and keeping track of money going out--not what's being kept in anymore. i really like the spelling test part. mississippi was always the easiest.
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