Too young to understandethos of beauty regimesshe rejects girlish ritualssees beauty in naturein glitter of make-believe This abnegation of groomingnot rebellion, but appreciationa nuance that escapesMother’s frustrated efforts. (My granddaughters balk at having their hair done, something that drove me crazy as a parent, but now reminds me of myself as a child. One generation […]
Father, as immoveable as a mountain taught us to orchestrate submontane routes Circumnavigating his rocky moods bestowed upon us a fear of masculinity Resilience instilled the necessity of mining gold from darkness: still digging. (Sketch mine)
Had a weird sort of lexicon the man who professed to be my dad – Clamped in his chokehold he’d demand words of devotion Became inured to this dichotomy – spent a lifetime searching for love – Just the right balance of cruelty and kind. (Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Sketch mine.)
Summer of ’67 British invasion Canada claiming 100 – Dad arrives home in a powder puff blue convertible. Back seat sisters long hair flapping bellowing along with 8-track tunes: Loving Spoonful “Do you believe in magic?” I, barely nine idolizing a sister sixteen – a model with go-go boots and hippie style Cottaged at Sauble […]
The place remains in my dreams like a movie set preserved… Have assigned each room a critique – disclosed the crimes Yet, it remains, like a beacon draws me to it, begs reflection What if I could go back now that I can breathe Now that I’ve laid claim to maturity would I discover a […]
Not yet double digits when the sting of rejection punctured my ego – “We can’t play with you,” peers gloated; “our mothers said.” What did I know of reasons or replies, just felt a part of me die. Still trying to win approval, heal my nine-year-old heart.
Remember that time wading to the caves St Martin’s summer How the tide rushed in Atlantic pulling us apart my body weak with laughter How you shouted, coaxed – once ashore we collapsed wet but warm, hearts flooded. (My brother and I weren’t raised together, as his father abducted him at age 10. Reunited years […]
Of course she is away caught in the schism of her parents’ divorce played like a pawn She is emotionally numb incapable of articulating wants and desires – broken though no one notices. (Poem originally appeared on Twitter. Visit me @Vjknutson. Image from personal collection.)
Reach for her across the abyss of indifference – would hold her dear comfort her sorrows – empty promises, I now understand have abandoned her countless times in the name of obligation, this child that is me.
A milk jug, handle turned in, was all it took for father to lather, a barrage of curses decrying our lack of worth, foaming from his mouth – spittle that remains lodged in our psyche – drug resistant venom. (Tuesdays poems come from Twitter. Follow me at @Vjknutson. Image from personal collection.)