Poetic Musings
I Know Her
Kristy Levine Her floors are always spotless, her schedule regimented. Dogs at eight, kids at nine, school at ten, and chores at two. Dogs again at four, Grandma at four-thirty, dinner at five, and kids, TV, and Dad from six to nine. Every day her monotony drones, and she walks farther away from the woman she once was. We never talk. I still know the way her ankles crack when she walks down the stairs with laundry. I know where she is, where she has been when I smell lavender perfume; her feet are white with baby powder. Her favorite smell is a path on the moon. She hates curly hair, slaves to be beautiful. I beg her to see what’s already there. Fingers turn purple, nails run pale and are always plain, so she paints more color on her eye lids and cheeks. She laughs at corny jokes, and cries at Charlotte’s Web every once in a while. But she always cries at Homeward Bound. She cried when the dog died. She hides behind a mask of pride, Lays a layer of brick every day. One day, the wall will finish and I will never see her again. But I’ll know her. So she works against the life she knew when it was me and her. I’ll stay my tongue when she walks away, mortar and brick in hand. She’ll never say a word. She won’t have to. |
Brazil
Kristy Levine I listened to my mother go on about airplanes to Brazil. She feared that it would crash because one had plummeted a week before. “Statistics, mom,” I told her. She smiled, rolled up a magazine in her usual way. “I guess you’re right.” I knew what she was thinking. She knew I thought the same-- Daddy’s bachelor pad. Daycare where they could not care less. Unending shuffle of papers, news articles, memories, photos, all salt stained from a broken Jew who tried to teach his children right from wrong, but lost in the life game of grief. “Stay.” But I couldn’t say. I asked that she wait to die a few more years down the road, so I could at least have some kind of career. We laughed, and went on. |
You And I
Kristy Levine We went to the beach, You and I, to slow the sands of time. But instead of time, we found rocks and shells with “forever” written on mine. We went to the mountain, You and I, to build a family with snow. But instead of snow, we found french fries and pizza, good stuff for a family to grow. We went to the game, You and I, to throw our routines to the wind. But instead of the wind, we found green jerseys and maps, that get us home after we win. We went to the beach, You and I. A beautiful shoreline to share. We talked about boys, argued over cars, and laughed when the kids’ butts went bare. No more can be said, no less could dare. You are my father, our love is rare. |
Nineteen
Kristy Levine I wear happy well. Window down Mirror me in heels We all look like we feel Hair whips and flips Dramatic eyes Pretend they care enough to see freedom in this car ride. Break the volume Until there's no room for the strength that claims the heirloom Heritage that every girl deserves to fly to try and die to leashes that lied. |