Monday, October 18, 2010

Hot Springs

Hi everyone! Here's an older poem of mine, on the eve of my mother's birthday.

Before My Mother Died

At the baths in Hot Springs, a skinny woman
in a sheet tells me she passed out her mother’s face
on flyers, begging people to pray. I made a thousand
copies and stood on the corner until they were gone.
We lay in on top of tables like corpses, waiting
for the hot towels, placed wherever we hurt. The attendant
gives us hot water to drink, and we stomach what we
can, hoping to make our insides match the heat outside.
Before long, we gather our things. The skinny woman
asks me to hand her a huge black purse. I was tired
of not having enough room for all my garbage, she says
with the saddest smile. It’s lighter than I would have
imagined, a deflated thing she slings over her shoulder
out of habit before she starts off for whatever might be next.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"I have known relative happiness -- and by happiness, I mean a sense of peace, not just waiting for the other shoe to drop." Robert Downey Jr.

Cocktail Hour
The Robert Downey Jr. interview in Playboy!

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Monday!


the walking man said...

The only hot springs where one can find relief is the same place where one can go to next place--within. Trying to warm the inside to match the outside is oft times a harder trick than i know how to pull off.

Charles Gramlich said...

Tired of not having enough space for my junk. Evocative line for sure.

jodi said...

Hi Sweet, Happy Birthday to Momangel! I try to never drag my shit around. Happy October to you, Doll. xo