I wrote some fresh poetry here. Or something. I feeling particularly inspired by a particular individual. So many mountains of thanks to them, and he who gives me words. 

 

Tables.

I have a thing for them.

Not a monster-like thing.

It’s the kind of thing

that’s just wedged

in my brain.

I can’t get it out.

 

Table legs.

Tables have four legs.

Those legs hold card games

and meals and homework.

They halt the table from

splintering to the floor.

The table can be a table

without them.

 

That sounded wrong, didn’t it?

It is.

 

I am a table.

Actually.

Well,

my life is.

It holds board games and

conversations both soft and

heavy-laden. It holds

fingers tapping out words and

dendrites working. It also

holds lightsabers and

filled journals. It has lots of

hearts and wheezing laughs

and teary tissues and

the polish of an otherworldly

varnish.

 

I have four table legs.

They keep me from

turning to kindling.

One of them is

my Mom.

 

This table leg

is etched with teary

laughs and sparkly colours

and chocolate milks.

It’s braced with

whisks and keyboards

and inky pens.

And a lot of

scrapbooks.

 

This table leg

has the otherworldly

varnish too. It likes

reflecting the kitchen’s

light. It stands

between the Table

and the cold floor.

But it hasn’t banished

screw drivers.

 

This table leg

wasn’t replaced

when the table was

disassembled

and packed and shipped

across the sea.

But it didn’t get

packed either.

Y’know?

 

Mom is like that.

She’s my table leg.

In one way or another,

we’re bolted

together.

 

November 7, 2016

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2 Comments

  1. Awesome! We stay bolted together and we are a strength to each other. Family and friends need to stay solid through life’s crazy escapades! So good to know that you are learning and stretching on your own big K-adventure! I am proud of you for both staying the real you and becoming the real you 😉
    Love mom

    Liked by 1 person

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