and just like that
my thoughts disappear
they’ve gone somewhere
no longer here
I’d pull them back
if I could
my brain a block of solid wood
there’s no squish here
all grain and seed
maybe I should read
or was there something that I need
One thought, then the next, they bleed
meeting roadblocks and potholes
of ADHD
the wind sighs through the window
a gust of promises
smelling like a friend
our chocolate lab lifts his graying muzzle to it
soft ears blown back
he breathes deep
there’s no telling
what secrets
the wind whispers to him
maybe it says, come and play
our golden retriever crouches low
the sunlight catches his fur like liquid gold
he wiggles his butt again and then
they’re off!
I’m walking the path
kicking dandelions
they’ve gone to seed
just like the rest of us
you’re too loud
too abrupt
you finish your sentences
at the end of a question mark
maybe your words
don’t come off
as polite as they should be
you talk too much
maybe
I’m just so sick
of stuffing my personality
down in the dark
where no one can see it
and I’m tired
of being afraid
that I’ll say the wrong thing
I’ll upset someone
they won’t like me
like the stars
that never turn off in the day time
invisible but
always there
and maybe I don’t want to shine always
but I’m sick of turning my light off
so others can, too
I remember her wrinkles
the way her mouth drew up
just before a smile
the way she sang off tune
and loved a red convertible
and how one time she trapped a skunk
that was getting into her bird seed
and let him go
without getting sprayed
how we listened with amazement
and laughed
at the stubborn eighty-year-old woman
battling woodland creatures
and winning
how I always cry when we
sing her favorite song in church
God, I miss her
How Great Thou Art
how great was the woman who loved us
who was so amazing
that even a skunk knew not to spray her
I bought a poetry book
about dogs
and all it did
was remind me
how short their lives are
we’ll have several dogs
in our lifetimes
they’ll have several years
if we’re lucky
and it reminded me
we don’t have dogs
do we
they have you
For this one, I’m adding a note here first for some context. I recently read an article about Trump suggesting “menstrual classes” for US women to help increase birth rates in America. Because you know…none of us seem to know how our bodies work. 🙄 The article was a little bit too Handsmaids Tale-ish to me, and so ludicrous that I simultaneously wanted to laugh and cry. The disgusting desire to control women’s health is just so disrespectful and alienating. I also can’t believe that it’s even happening to begin with. The ignorance and corruption. And at any rate, it also pissed me off, and so, of course, I wrote something in response to it. I wrote several stanzas, to be honest, but in the end, I only needed one.
The article, if you’re curious:
I am thirty-six years old
I know what I need
I dont need a billionaire white man
telling me how to bleed
maybe it’s because i pay taxes now
maybe it’s because i understand more about politics
or maybe it’s because i know more about myself
than i ever did before
Monday feels
like a dying sun
like hope that fades
when the day is done
Monday feels
like an icy breeze
you’ve lost your gloves
and you’re gonna freeze
Monday feels
like drowning tears
your face is wet
you’ve aged a million years
Monday feels
like a melting crayon
you drag your feet
you say, “i think i can”
Agh, these were the Monday vibes I was totes feeling yesterday.
–AJM
saying yes instead of no
i’ve become the “it girl,” yeah
no longer a disappointment
Hope you are well. I’m struggling with some kind of sickness…again!! 😭 It’s been difficult lately.
Just got to keep writing!
–AJM
A. J. Morse 