The Holler

Wednesday, January 15, 2014
I’m opening up & then shutting down
Why this compulsion to tell everyone
when I should keep it zipped
Why tattle to the dentist who expects
nothing more than good hygiene
Why oh why tell the manicurist
& her blind husband typing in Braille
to his pretty cousin Thuy
who read my lips & signed
Why is he bothering us with this
Grateful for dreams I dreamt of my sister
wearing a chador and living in Kansas
I must write her a note of glad tidings
with tidbits of nostalgia instead of our grief
Death she learned is an accomplishment
a wafer of sun the sky took for Communion
& the labor of water is transforming
the human body into spittle in the wind
The keep the culvert the crawlspace
the circular breathing the water phone
the mother dead dear dead
How remote the spirit feels this finale
How best to submit my thesis as my final final
Acknowledging that my mother is done kaput
Let’s not get cross I tell her Let’s get pissed
Celebrate all that’s still wet in Kansas
Is that OK with you The two of us sailing along
below the drones locked in their labors
Maybe we’re all in need of pampering
My students poor saps feeling sentimental
about finishing & finally leaving
this old place for the known world
I envy them for the promises they keep
the rebel holler the harbor in their hearts
where they launch their ships  Who would not
want to be them seasick un-compassed sailors
Wednesday, January 15, 2014