Day 337

December 3, 2021

4 more weeks

Dec. 3, 2020

a year ago

November pink

creeps up slowly

from behind the russet mountains.

Begins to layer in brighter shades

sky a fuchsia

with dark behind.

Suggesting

Adjusting

Re-arranging

Clattered thoughts

tumbling, trying to find

their proper place

where they just slip in

settle down for the winter.

timing is everything

my watch slowed down

I lost my rhythm

I stumbled in the hall.

Something’s not quite right

ajar

out of whack

just out of reach

Something's not quite right

slipped

turned over

just past my hand.

Suggest

Adjust

Re-arrange

November pink

crept into my bed.

Attached itself to my soul

and ready or not

here it comes

ready or not

clattered thoughts remain

with the dark close behind.

In December when you know the chill

won't leave town until your April birthday

It happened in a sterile place

women clothed in green polyester pantsuits

And men in white jackets

stethoscopes around their necks.

It happened to me and to my Mother

although she did not know how to share

the feeling of a door closing behind her back.

Didn't want me to share the feeling.

She didn't have to worry, the cell door was

slamming in my chest as we walked

Away from the nursery, away from her

wrapped in clothes brought to her

by our neighbors to be taken to a new home

for Christmas, leaving my Christmas empty for awhile.

Sterile corners, metal instruments, plastic tubes

a breathing machine on a one pound infant.

Abandoning a baby to adoption

praying it was the right thing to do

building a wall around anything bruised.

I threw those clothes of red and blue velour away

I left for Limentor Point. I closed the heavy

glass door behind me, an injury to my heart.

draft. 12/3/21