Blood

The Writers Almanac by Glen Creason Selected Poems) --THURSDAY, 8 February 2009Listen (RealAudio) How to listen

Poem: “Blood” 

 Bloody, bawling, bundle of anxious questions 

I held her up, our eyes locked in love

 Where would we go from there? 

Her jagged breaths were my own

 Sleep never seemed to matter then

 We held each other up together

 Constant as the northern star

 This glowing stellar child in my heart

 I held her up to see the monkeys in the zoo

 Upwards she made me stand in lines

 Thick paper mortarboards and ballet tears

 She held up to the lessons

 Sitting up proud in stale studios

 I’m the bedtime pony!

 I said Waiting for her teenage exhale 

Up she grew, past my concerns

 I held her up to scrutiny

 She held me up in mutiny

 I hate you she screamed

 I hope you die, the words cut 

You’re stuck with me I said

 Those breathes of bravado, masking dread

 I can’t, I won’t leave that upward look

 Years crawled past too quickly

 I held her up without feeling

 The ache she learned from me 

The old man, bending toward earth

 Broken hearted now,

 once more Thinking my road was again hopeless 

cul de sac dead end 

The once little one held me up 

Like once we craned upward, at monkeys

 Forgetting to do anything

 but Feel how wonderful the air Felt up there.

 Lifted up again