Awakened by cops, I am frightened and confused. My parents arrested, I was removed. From house to house, I am placed with mannequins who “love” in parentheses. “Mommy, when will you come?” Her face plastered everywhere, yet she is nowhere. I was so young, then one day I turn eighteen. Return to thick, robust roots.
Knock on my old door,
Greeted by stranger blankly,
“How can I help you?”
My caseworker forgot to put life skills in my suitcase. A life sized adult body with a child inside on stilts. That night was the first one sleeping on hard surfaces. Aged out, and graduated from child protective services to homeless and forgotten on somebody's lunch break. They eat a cardboard club sandwich.
Middle aged mother
Inquiring about her child
“Sorry Ma’am, that files closed”.
I wrote this poem as a haibun, trying to keep it emotionless and rather concrete, inserting haiku that I hope adds new dimension to the prose. I am trying to hit home without actually hitting anything! This is my first haibun.
Aye, let me say
It's not what ya think bout me,
For I'll always be that, just me!
Holler if ya want to,
I'm not listening,
For I'm not tuned in!
Turn up the volume all ya want to,
I still don't feel the lousy heat,
I'm over you, over that too!
Want to tell me a story
All about me?
I know me well and I do ME well.
What else to add to your false alarm,
Like a clock going off
When it's not supposed to?
What do you gain from your strife?
Does it make you into a hero,
Locked in like a club sandwich?
How large is your bite
Shedding dirt like a mite,
Pieces flying all over - air, land and sea?
You got that right, It's not what ya say
And it's not what ya do;
Hurting is the name of your Game!
a club sandwich
is a mini meal
what's your favorite club?
There once was a woman named Tracy
Who wore clothes that were a bit racy
Till she got drunk in a club
And was mistaken for grub
By the wolves who thought her quite tasty!
Timothy I. Brumley
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