Nevermind, the moon whispered
sailing away along the pine-studded ridge
as bioluminescent sluglike insects
bejewel the forest floor
while she hugged the earth I swayed upon
sweeping aside the anxiety of ages.
She tucked it away in the pantry of time.
Can’t bake cupcakes without minutes,
as delighted children shout, “Sit in it!”
I cry with the river’s currents as they lap in rhythm
with my blood coaxing fear out of each cell.
Is there bourbon on ice splashed with bitters
just round the universe’s corner?
I gotta get home before afterwards happens.
About the Creator
William Bradley
I am a union organizer during the day, writer at night. These worlds mesh best when I imagine new ways of relating and envisioning in our one and only world.
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Whomp Whomp
When I grow up, I want to leave home, toaster ovens, whipped cream cheese, fluffy pillows, encouraging words, underlying tension, family unit blamed for alienation from oneself but in reality it’s this fucked up country, eating words, laughing out loud, make pretend I will never leave you, cars with horns that don’t shut off making your mom really mad and embarrassed in front of the neighbors, being afraid to say I miss you brotherssistersparents for we are one, aren’t we, aren’t we, big wheels with a flattened back wheel that makes a whomp whomp sound as you ride down the street, kittens with flattened legs from drunk uncle driving over it, big brother tears in eyes, hugging said flattened kitten into the kitchen, other kittens born outside to Bones thus named for its bony features running inside in fear into mom’s tomato sauce on stovetop, tracking red around the tiny house with five kids chasing after it, home I can’t leave you yet, home get out now!, I runaway for years only to find myself here, dried gov’t milk, knock like mom to get into that damn bathroom, draping a sheet around the tv as I watched Animal House while babysitting my little sisters, they don’t can’t understand the dialogue anyway, family big as this country, loud as it too, coming down from the city all the time to have parties, communions, birthdays, weddings, home with big tulip trees and elms and oaks and me up in them shouting mommommommy come look up up up, wanna go back wanna find that again, home sweet home hung above the door like a lucky horse shoe.
By William Bradley4 years ago in Poets
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