Critique and Craft: Stream-of-Consciousness Writing • Ghosts

Ghosts

I am collecting ghosts.

Favorite cat was by the porcelain goose on the top

shelf near The Bumper Book, the book that holds

the ghost of my toddler self. I walked by and

smiled that smile that goes inside to me

and not out to the world. Another day, one was

in the bathroom sitting by the Italian sun bust— right

where she sat for my favorite picture of her—white

Feather-fluff, tail wrapped around her toes.

She seems porcelain now too.

There at the same sink I felt a touch so tender
on my elbow tonight—even turned to address my man

but there was no one there. 

Another message from an unknown sender.  

Mama lives in my laptop, the place 

she’d love most if she were still alive.

I’d show her all the tricks and she’d have the

Web mastered in no time, like she mastered

dealing cards, then Business, and quilting, calligraphy,

the art of love, and anything else she put her mind to.

She had no master. 

             Do I? 

Of course not. I am her daughter, the one who cried

in fear of shadows in my bedroom late at night and

nestled against her breast as she held me close—

never-ever saying that I did not

see what I saw. 

                                        MLydiaM ~ May 2012

Written for Critique and Craft—Stream-of-Consciousness Writing at dVerse Poets.

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Poetics: 9th Life

9th Life

Brave old patient fighting with me

for more years together,

         (what I must believe) --

you allow me to pinch up a pocket

of your fur-lined skin and

to press a dripping needle

into some place

not yet hardened from

pricking invasions.


After drops of clear life-

sustaining fluids flush

cruel murky toxins

you later climb into my lap loving

more nights understanding nothing,

         (what I must believe) --

and everything.

                           MLydiaM ~ January 2012



Submitted for Poetics at dVerse Poets. This week we are prompted by Karin Gustafson to write a poem containing Undercurrents.


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Mag 65 - Blessing for Bleecker

Blessing for Bleecker

When I see the old brick church
I always think of you, Dear Heart,
You ginger-and white love of my life.
You wore an art deco heart on your sleeve,
And a lucky diamond on one of your toes --
The love never goes.

When my job was no longer
To save you, My Boy, but to free
You, gentlest of beings, bravest of souls --
Who else was gentle? Who would help me brave
The cruelest of partings? Whose example shows
The love always flows?

When the priest gave the blessing
You were in my arms, dear Dear Heart,
Ginger and white fur wet from my tears,
(Your strong loving heart to beat ten weeks more.)
Feeling for certain that the love never goes,
I stroked your soft toes.

                                                         MLydiaM ~ May 2011

 

 

Bleecker, aka Dear Heart (1990-2006)

There is much online information on the Blessing of the Animals in remembrance of St. Francis of Assisi's love for all animals. I liked this piece at americancatholic.org.

Photo at top is a writing prompt by Tess Kincaid of Magpie Tales.

A Postscript after original publication:

In response to a comment from Stickup Artist, I wrote to her about the medical problems that Bleecker had during his 16 years of life. I am adding it here because it explains why I used the phrase bravest of souls to describe him in this poem:

I so appreciate you mentioning the mutual love and caring that Bleecker and I shared. I adopted him from the Humane Society when he was four months old and we were inseparable. It was good he had my commitment because he did have more than his share of medical problems:

• Two separate perineal urethrostomy surgeries for urinary tract blockage (the first one was not successful in relieving his condition),

• Radioactive Iodine Therapy for hyperthyroidism which required a three-day stay at the treatment center, after which we had to isolate him from us except for one hour/day for a month because he was radioactive - although he was in a closed room in the house he did not understand the separation,

• Ultimately, kidney failure. Prognosis: with home-administered subcutaneous fluid injections every three days he might live for 6 mos-one year. My husband and I, and our dear patient, maintained that schedule for over two years, amazing the vets! But after two years he went downhill fast and he and I made that final trip to the vet one week before Christmas after a big snow.

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