Oh, Sickly Child could not you see
The bucket I placed by my knee
Oh, Sickly Child as I held your head
Did you have to turn it towards your bed
That first upchuck was big - God knows -
Hitting your pillows, blankets
and then your toes
But Sickly Child did you have to then
Turn back to me and do it again?
Oh, Sickly Child could you not see the bucket by my knee?
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5 comments:
Damn. I figured the first time I had my head vomited upon during the night, I was truly christened as a parent. The several times after that, I could have done without. You could publish this stuff, you know...
Thanks Rachel,
But the very 'thought' of 'publishing' repulses me. I deal with the nuances of that biz all too regularly in my professional life (i.e. history)! For me, poetry's majesty is that it is 'free'!
On the upside - I have just dusted off my 14 yellowed (Hilroy) poetry journals from 1975-1985 - maybe I'll start by typing some of them. Who knows, maybe my 1979 epic "Supertramp - 'Breakfast in America' - a lunch for dogs!" is destined to be worthy? Highly doubt it though, ha, ha.
Most were just about love, touch, blood and lust, friends, freedom and vice - too narrow I fear to be worth anything here?
We will see? It's hard (in ones 40s) to conceive of re-typing poems dealing with teen angst and love which are absurdly entitled "Acne, You Undo Me"!
Gawd, just reread one of my poems from 78'- "On Girls Nipples & Rutting Members"!!! Nothing publishable there but the blissfully ignorant obscene and an indictment of what 'all-boy' Jesuit schools do to teens!
Ha! My mom says I seemed to wait till she picked me up to heave all over her! ;-)
I am totally with you on the "publishing" thing! Poetry is so freeing, especially when self-published, and especially compared to academic writing with all its rules, protocols, stiff format and competitiveness. I escaped to the civil service in part to get away from those absurd pressures, which stifle creativity and put quantity ahead of quality. Anonymity is very freeing, too.
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