answering letters

My mother wrote letters to me that she never sent. I found them when she died. I'm guessing I was never suppose to read them and the other daughters have the satisfaction in knowing (or really not knowing) they don't even exist for them.

You can't will things to happen. They just happen or they don't. So i suppose if you live your life in the gray always afraid to step out into the sun, you can never feel how warm it is on your face.

So what kind of appeal can be heard in that sense?

and how do you answer it.

It's funny
I have kept my self at arms length from people who I knew would only hide even if they cared.
Funny I never thought they cared.

I keep myself away from my aunt Janice for that reason. She becomes cowardly. Her emotions shut down
and if she has anything to say its only things that push me away. Its worked. I don't know how I can remind her of Linda (her sister, my mother)... but I suppose somehow I do. It could be it is not a coincidence I ended up in Brooklyn, Linda lived in Manhattan for quite some time... "figuring it out."

I pushed dad to talk to me yesterday. I asked him, are you ever worried I won't find someone ... or I won't be hapy. He said a flat ..." no ya know la, whatever?"

I think dad missed the boat on what ...."whatever" means as "a saying"

he told me it was part of the emotional wheeling and dealing you go through.
Which I knew already...
I just hope hes still wheeling and dealing when and if I find the right person. It would really suck to be totally orphaned on what is suppose to be ... "the happiest day of your life."
........................................

the white sheet crinkles as it wears
tacked to the refridgerator
never reading it
always passing it
a reminder
of unanswered thoughts

the ink is dripping off the page
who wants to be a sage?
knowing all profound and complicated answers
speaking with the sharpest tounge
tap the rib cage
with the pitch fork
do you hear a hum?
are you out of tune
would you find room
in that hallowed cell

the floorboards creak
but secrets they do not keep
only the echoed sound
of where feet pressed
I tap them with a calloused finger
to hear the hollow sound

how do you answer an appeal
if judgment calls you
ripping pages from your thoughtbook
you collect the puzzle
and arrange it
and the words are sounding stranger
as you say them
outloud

...............................

when I write these days I feel like such a tool. haha but it gets things put in a different perspective in my head. So it helps me... and it either makes you go...wtf? Isn't she a weirdo....
or in some rare cases... people like it.


either way its OK. I haven't done it in so long... and actually its good practice because I am going to be forced to take a poetry workshop this semester...
why not get a head start?


~<3