New Poem: Noah's Ark

Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about my muse.  All artists have to have one, and for me, I think mine is my mother.  She has inspired a number of my poems and she was the first one to encourage my writing.  I have tons of great memories of her.   I remember she would often take us to Pizza Hut for lunch once kindergarten let out (which is probably why I love pizza so much).  One of the last memories I have of her is sitting across from her in a diner as she ate french fries.  I felt this great swell of pity for her.  I thought of her as a young girl eating French fries, dreaming of what her life would become.  And I sat there thinking of that young girl, knowing what awaited her, knowing this life was not the stuff of her dreams, knowing I could be that young girl too, sitting in a diner, waiting for my dreams to end.

Growing up, my mother was a fairly religious person, although her condition kept her from attending church on a regular basis.  I wrote this over the last few days and am fairly happy with it at the moment.  I may add to it, but for now, it is “complete”. 

Noah’s Ark

Divorced and in a diner,

The lupus looming just beneath her skin,

My mother sits stern-faced

Abandoning a diet.

In between the silence that is saying nothing

I remember a picture I did not keep.

My father showed it to me once

In a hallway of our house.

Slim and in her 20s, well built,

Some wildness beneath her smile

Is pacing back and forth

Within the confines of its cage.

Looking down I catch our reflections

Rippling on the surface of the tabletop,

A pair of empty vessels,

And as a great flood wells within my sockets,

Her hand leads French fries two-by-two

Into her toothless mouth.