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Andrea Edwards Poem
I screamed at her
like some wicked hellion
trying to rip apart her world.
I was the embodiment of rivalry.
She was growing older. I fed on the rage
I stole from her, I loved young,
I loved hard and fast, and anyone
she hated. I loved like a forest fire
and she could do nothing about it.
She was just my step-mother
Or she was, when I moved in with the guy
about six years older
Then I met her.
She was about six years old-
or she was, when I moved in with the guy.
I was just her step-mother,
and I could do nothing about it.
She hated that I loved like a forest fire.
I loved hard and fast, and anyone.
I stole from her, I loved young.
She was growing older, I fed on the rage
I was the embodiment of rivalry
trying to "rip apart her world
like some wicked hellion"
I screamed at her.
Copyright © Andrea Edwards | Year Posted 2016
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Details |
Andrea Edwards Poem
My dog's stomach sounded like a washing machine set on high and hot.
He was laying between my mother and me Off the couch,
but not because we told him to, the couch was too covered with stuff.
Pillows, a bag of knitting needles and yarn, technical devices,
strings and bobbles all of which he would refuse to touch.
He does get on the couch, but not when it's covered with stuff,
stuff vs dog, stuff wins.
There was thunder crackling outside like semi-trucks on a bumpy road
and it had been muggy all day, like a stray tarp had fallen over the sky
and there was no escaping it, just dull, dreary, dank life. Hot too, it was 80s easy.
The thing is, my dog's afraid of storms, usually, well, only if my sister
and my father are around. If it's just my mom and myself, he's fine.
Today, it was just us.
After the thunder started we heard this gurgling, and she thought it was me
and I knew it was him on the floor staring lazily at the TV with his ears flopped out
like a bunny eared antenna which was a bit loose and wiggled out to the side.
That was his relaxed pose, one foot folded under him, invisible like an amputee
the other paw out as a shield to his mouth when really it was his third side
of a triangle toward stability. This was his lazy pose, and yet
his stomach was rolling like a pot of boiling water in a bag
gurgling, and sloshing, and bubbling about.
The funniest thing was that it had an ambient noise quality to it
like white noise that never stopped, but occasionally it would gurgle out his mouth
and he would turn his head a little and look up at one of us,
A lost puppy afraid to be afraid because maybe, scraps? So we cracked up
laughing, and he stuck his head back down with the weight of a dead car.
Copyright © Andrea Edwards | Year Posted 2016
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Details |
Andrea Edwards Poem
It was ripped to shreds
turned over, and dumped
atop a chipped hole in the earth
The garden had been pretty
weedy, but pretty nevertheless
Like anything it took time to grow
a bleeding heart a couple bushes
the occasional tulip planting
a horrifying dog toy and bones
but in the end all of it
was upchucked and abandoned
on a pile of rocks and debris
waiting for their gardener
to rescue them
Copyright © Andrea Edwards | Year Posted 2016
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Details |
Andrea Edwards Poem
You and I will dance among the stars
wistfully wilting across the willowy floor
falling upon our feet like fruit
collapsing to the chaotic grass
rolling around the hills, until we stop
and rest our hands together
softly, softly,
just a little ghost of a touch
for we are together
in the mounds beneath this tree
which has grown from our broken bones
and fed upon our chanting moans
through our pulp and our pureed stones
and we reach through our nutrient
towards the sky, lifting our arms high
Take me away!
Take me above the clouds
and the atmosphere
the smog and the smoke
and the toxic fumes
let me die among the emptiness
be something, among nothing at all
and fitfully I'll twist myself
to never fall, and never rise
and never be
but I am sick
of this resistance on my hands
as I slap the wind.
Let me be free.
Copyright © Andrea Edwards | Year Posted 2016
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