At Times Upon a Time                                         

I reply it was a storybook childhood no
not as in Princess Bride just money enough
for food piano lessons a dog new clothes
a yearly vacation that kind of thing
and naturally there were the few times
in the middle of dinner my mother took
a knife from the drawer in order to end herself
but I don't remember those well maybe not at all
though I do recall the shininess and little points
yes serrations I later learned and my father
with his hands out in a stop stop and and also
a more than usual problem in getting our broccoli down
the three of us wide-eyed in steakus interruptus
and the dog sniffing terror a bit less tantalizing
than snippets of scrap cushioning himself
suddenly in a collective unconscious of couch
our father still pleading no please let's just eat
talk later there that's good just sit down
good and a smile and please pass the ketchup
and it was over until the next time going
smoothly to cleanup with the floor vacuum
and its atrocious wonderful sound signifying
another meal successfully ingested and
popcorn on the way the machines so comforting
being in the end all under her control
one night just bleeding into the next
and in the morning the usual coffee aroma
her dark savior awakened from slumber
in the cupboard all night long above the
you know drawer and off to school with us
after the first cup and then on to all the rest
it was quite full that pot so I knew what
she was doing as I boarded the bus and undid
my locker chatting away on a storybook day
never thinking what might happen if she jumped
suddenly to grab the phone and spilled the coffee
one doesn't in retrospect think that far ahead
or behind and truth is anything can be part of
anything like the tiny reflections and refractions
dancing like so many gemstones right there
in a kitchen in storybook suburbs where a woman
who wants to die lives the same day over and again
for decades as there are rules so she
swallows them like bitter black beans and gets on
with making beds and tossing rotting laundry
no one can ever see and now she lives and thrives
and my father relaxed now his hands clasped
like one does with some cherished book to the chest
his final chapter gasped long long ago


1/19/2010