Mamma clock

April 23, 2017 By in Poetry Tags: , , , 20 Comments

Turrell

~

You were never adventurous

insisting on sticking to interaction

proscribed a sure thing

trying to be a “good girl” but always told

you were never good enough…

I was the one thrown into the air by each season

intoxicated by a flower’s breath

building new homes out of cardboard or snow

exhuming pets I was curious about death and bones and teeth

climbing trees listening to their heart sap

nipping change from Norman’s penny jar just for the sneak of it

not caring much about showing my girl parts to the neighbor boys

my anatomy a fire fly in a jar

And there you were pushing me off

unsteady on two bicycle wheels

as if your moods weren’t the day’s bad weather

and me always approaching you with the caution

of the kid held flat out in high winds

and now you were casting me off like a baby bird

as if you yourself knew how to fly

Well…little did I know your strange insistence

was giving me more than wings

your internal Mamma clock was saying

it was time I learned to fly

sending me on my way

with all you had learned of trust 

and the red apple of your love

watching me

as I took off and kept rolling

~

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Artist: Terry Turrell

20 responses

  6. Your magical way with words often climaxes in a classic Jana. This is one. The subtle warp and woof of your remembering carried me seamlessly through images known and unknown, over waterfalls of long ago and falling through childhood’s lights and darks after the white rabbit. Too many brilliant and memorable lines to quote and honour here but I’m printing it out to pin over my work table. I am inspired…

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