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version 2.2
...self indulgence...
...livejournal...
...poetry & artwork...
...friends...
...randomalia...
...rpg excursions...
...leave me alone...
...back where you started...
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...Broken Keys...
A poem about my family and their house
.................................and having spent
.................................nearly 15 years in it,
learning such things as
........................Take those white socks off
........................before you go in that filthy basement.
This will serve me well someday.
~
I learned two keys on the piano were broken,
and later I learned that one was G sharp. My fingers
couldn't reach the other one and so it was just broken.
............In some of the pictures that hold my
sheet music in place,
....my father's hair is very long
....and mine is very short.
~
When my brother turned 18 he moved
..................to Detroit and I moved
..................into his old room. I painted
everything white and threw away the remnants
......of his years there.
~
Some nights the coyotes howled
............and sent the dog into hysterics.
............Sometimes I joined him.
~
When I was sent to the pantry
for Save-Rite cherry pie filling
.................or the carrots and tomatoes
............my mother canned from her garden,
I would look at the top shelf
...............and see a jar of sugar.
I was filled, packed, crammed, jammed
and I used to imagine
what it would look like if smashed.
In my mind,
white granules tumbled over long shards
of glass and onto my bare feet.
~*~
Other nights
I climbed out the window
and leapt from the greenhouse
to the porch roof to howl
along with them.
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