Family Album

Here on the rolling lawn,

I feel alive and not drugged by that stuff I was on.

It reminds me of how things used to be back then,

When I had my dolls

And Mama had her men,

But I can see you don't believe me.

Springtime is so lovely here.

That's when Papa had his breakdown every year,

Strolling without a care on the factory floor,

Or the courthouse square

In his underwear.

Such a sensitive man, you have no idea.

Don't look so nervous.

Why can't we be friends? Is there some rule?

Some terrible taboo?

Minutes are like hours here.

Experience this.

Really be in it, dear.

Soon lunch time will arrive,

And the police, and the townies drinking beer

Along the fence line. They know that I'm a handsome woman still.

Yes, I know what they're thinking,

And how to use this thing.

My brother robbed banks and taught me well.


Tabitha Bird said…
I think this is your best work yet! I loved it. All the images playing off each other, even against each other. Very well done!
Daryl said…
Oh nice .. after seeing Thornfield Hall in CBW's post I am again reminded of Mr Rochester ...
TALON said…
This gave me the chills, Shay. I see a tragedy playing out before my eyes. So well done!
Riot Kitty said…
That is beautiful but sad.
Mojo said…
There is no taboo, no rule. We can be friends. I like that idea.
steveroni said…
This all sounds so familiar--I believe I was there!
Joanna Jenkins said…
How do you do that?!?!?! AWE-SOME!
More please,
Anonymous said…
This one took me to a place both familiar and foreign. A perfect paradox for today.
Unknown said…
I don't know how you do this, your words so effortlessly spill across the page to describe without duty but with grace your beauty and ferocity on the pages...thank you endlessly.

love you
Cloudia said…
what an imagination!

Great final line...
Mama Zen said…
I really like the rhythm and flow of this one.

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