Skip to main content

Split Peas

Never trust a word unless the words
are coming from her
Never able to question her motives
though she scrutinized my own.
I didn't know she had anxieties
and
I didn't know I had my own
Then came the day my child was born.

I feared for myself,
for himself,
because it took them a second to smile,
they banged the dished too loud,
they forgot to say hello.

These thoughts were all my own.

But the machine churning them was not something that was just born
It came from her

I believed every word she said.
I was smart, I was lazy, very needy
Until I dared to utter names back to her
You ignore us, you need us, you talk to us
when it is a convenience to you.
So, I've split you.

I was told  the splitting was something done subconsciously
To help me understand what was going on when she
Would do things and say things that contradicted the peace
I believe  she tried to give to me
I understand her and I don’t
and it’s that confusion that has me searching through my own webs of vines
Because I don’t want to be another pea split by her sprout.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Carnales (after Terrance Hayes)

We’re like kids              running under shooting               red fire hydrants, us,      standing in transparent tanks & heavy shorts under our home’s gutter drain.  “My turn,”                I remember you say but I don’t move. Instead,                I close my eyes &                remember mom,      twirling in her long denim-blue dress              on our porch                             under the rain. Mom would take us                outside in the rain                to bathe together,    ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Dream #414

I was on a bus on my way to a new school, a high school on the south side of Chicago. I transferred to that school because I had moved into the area. The bus went south over a dark brick road bridge--it was dark because it was a gloomy day out--like the sky was heavy with rain. This new school was completely new--metal framework with floor-to-ceiling windows, open floors. The class body was mixed, with a majority being black and white students. I went to the second floor to wait in line at a check-in window. A very chatty boy behind me bumped into me and as I turned to look at him, we both felt an immediate attraction--we are both brown, we are both alternative. I'm reminded of my husband, I remembered I have a husband--maybe in that life or another--so I keep the boy in mind to feel less alone but ignore him as I wait in line. I'm outside in the vast woods that is the campus of the high school. There is a pond and there are green rolling hills of different sizes, all moving l...
Post a Comment
Read more

Me, You, and Evals

My name is Mary. 5'3, medium brown hair that frizzes in the warmth. I like my shirts button to the top. Sometimes, I add my own bow made of left over ribbon from old gowns. My skirts are long and full. Its gets a little difficult for me to walk around when I need to get somewhere quickly but I really enjoy the sweeping movement it makes when I walk. Its as though I'm gliding. "Hi Mary". Its James. "Hi", I say shyly. I hope he doesn't notice my skin melting. "What is it you are writing? I always see you with your notebook and pen at hand. I thought I could sneak up to you this time to figure it out". Oh, that smile. Its so mischievious as if he knew his presence makes my pits sweat and my arms jiggle. "Just notes," I say. "But I must be on my way!" I say ratherly loudly and before he can object I walk in to the mist of morning traffic on Fletcher Street. I don't dare look back for fear he may be staring at me. Plus,...
Post a Comment
Read more