normality
is a concept
invented by
a pharmaceutical
company
Categories
Tag: coping
Categories
broom in hand
we southerners
have perfected the art
of filtering grand disappointment
through exquisite love
hell
we all have a special oriental rug
just for sweeping things under
how tranquil
it must be
sailing along
in the good ship right
upon a sea of wrong
that’s the blistering irony
about know-it-alls
sociopaths
predators
and candy coated pricks
who demonstrate
impervious response
they have a choice
whether or not
they acknowledge
their dysfunction
yet they leave us
none
the one thing i know
how to build with my hands
i learned in eighth grade industrial arts
if you give me raw wood
a table saw with a router
a miter saw
a bit of wood glue
a plane sander
clear varnish
i will build for you
a beautiful little beveled edge box
with brass hinges
and a hasp lock
but this day
i intend to construct one
for myself
designed for securely containing
three things
this poem
the straw that broke the camel’s back
and my suicide
you see
my soul died this morning
i gave up
but i am a mother with autistic
18 year old twin sons
who loves them enough
to allow her heart to continue to beat
i love them enough to remain alive
i know to do this
because my father didn’t
i love them enough to keep blood
in these arms that hold them
when they are screaming and crying
and blaming me for giving them autism
by virtue of my having been the one
who gave birth
telling them
son
if we can
just survive the hormonal high school years
everything will be alright
one of them hides his asperger’s from everyone
at school in a futile attempt to fit in
but he’s only hiding the words
the label of autism
his actions let people know he’s not typical
so when he stares too long
or has a face void of expression
they just think he’s a creepy jerk
so he keeps getting in trouble
because he won’t say
“i have asperger’s don’t take it the wrong way,
i don’t mean any harm”
because he says
“i would rather be called
an asshole
than a retard”
the other one
is resistant to everything
but eating and sleeping
rules are what you break
when mom isn’t looking
he thinks
so long as he says the right words
to her face
no matter if it breaks her heart
because there is no synapse that fires
between his behavior
and the consequences thereof
this morning i realized
i am attempting to drink the ocean
pissing into the wind
nothing i do
will ever be enough
but i do not have the option of giving up
i have to keep banging my head into these walls
until i am bloody
as this is my lot
this little wooden box i shall build
emblematic
of my pledge to go on with my life
to continue to fight
these words contained within it
are my coping mechanism
because in my zombie heart
i know
it is better
than my entire body
being placed into
into a finely crafted
pine box
this could be a poem
about failure
in love
my career or lack thereof
first female presidential aspirations
gone awry
i was born too late
to be joan of arc
or marie curie
it could be about divorcing twice
and how that precludes a third try
the way i’m not my father
or my mother
a sonnet about autism
what having twin teenagers
who live
inside an alternate reality is like
and the sudden image
of sissy spacek in carrie
when your parenting method
need be applied
stretch marks
grand addictions
bourbon goes in your mouth so willingly,
have you noticed?
panties fall off so easily
those two may be interconnected
student loans
shotgun wedding consumerism
single parent economics
fried green tomatoes
leading to an existential crisis
a closet full of pricey heels
and clutch purses
wishing they were
hiking boots,
sturdy jeans,
and pocket knives
it could be about some piece of shit
who dicked me over
or someone i put the screws to
being thoughtless
it’s funny the damage one can do
without even trying
in southern families
the way
needing a bassinet
is more tragic
than needing a casket
but it’s not
it’s not about any of that
this poem is about gratitude
for all i’ve been spared and given
this poem is the thundering cry
of one human
sent crashing skyward into stars
for god to exist
if not for me
for my loved ones and friends
this poem is about living to write this