These were sent by Debra Grace Kattihab,
she's a remarkable lady I have met. I enjoy
her advice, comments on my own work, and
course the fab stuff she writes. Hope you
liked, I do.
I lost an abortion poem it was stolen like
the memory
could not be each line had either a
butcher knife,
or a sterile clause in it
and I wonder what the thieves,
those nightmare night runners
probably boiling over
in adolescence and
premature
manhood,
thought of what I bought and paid for
with those thirty pieces of silver
I stopped my motherhood with
7/6/97
This Winter
This winter I lost Ceili,
her scarred lungs fluttered,
her guts shut down,
and she was gone, a god-bye.
This winter they sliced up my little son's
sleep
and
cut
out my first born's confidence,
so I homeschooled them both
through surgery and flood
until the small deaths that threatened them
washed away
in
their night.
This winter I was betrayed and hunted
when yuletide pulled me under,
the poet I sistered sinking under her family
who attacked
until they could attack no more.
This
winter my
ancestral
daughter
came back following the tatters of her
life,
and I
mothered
us both through the agency of hell.
This
winter our
heart-damaged dog lived beyond
expectations,
our
monster
kittens busted my china memories,
my
bankrupt house
rearranged to reveal riches,
and through
it all,
you husbanded me on up and out
until this winter became our own.
5/11/98
untitled
Paris was my fever dream
trapped in a sunny iowa cage
I pranced the edges of my parent's rooms,
letting
victor
hugo cut into the wrists I was too afraid to
slice,
covering up the bruises I breathed in
with the fake promise of barbara cartland's
lace,
but
always it was Paris,
there to dream for me when I began to despair
of
dreaming.
so when I arrived at the Paris airport a
criminal,
my
temperature slowly climbing
the stairs and tunnels I was pointed
down,
I became my
own
dream's nightmare.
6/12/97
©debra grace kattibah-all rights reserved,
and in effect.
..::index.candle light.HOME::..
