Walking Stick Witch

Out of Shape bikers passlungs are shriveled more like tarred 
29 years of old
12th step recharge
Sunday morning meeting
Lincoln park
I needed to pull over the bike
make it look like
I am intentionally pulling off the trail

Grass opens and unfolds 
before it kisses a concrete barge
A baby reaches out 
extension of a bird's wings 
white bonnet and barely walking
chubby bundle of bliss
mother makes eye contact with me
I smile 
she smiles back
continues back to attack
her baby girl with kisses
i wish 
my mother's love looked like that
I cringe
the thought is disgustingly uncomfortable
when I think of my mother
affectionate towards me 

Out of the six
My mother least likes

Her mother My Ga
absolutely adored 
every atom of my body
from head to feet

She would lean down and in to say 
seventh pew to that back
6am morning mass.
so I sang louder 
never to vocally cower
it was not long after 
did I feel the nails
push down my vocal chords from the
hands of 
the interrogator 
the critic 

My mother was embarrassed 
of the intuition and precocious 
things I voiced 

embarrassed at the sight of my clothes
in the trades
It doesn't pay to show up in heels

embarrassed no college degree was achieved

She tore down 
An entire years worth
"My Senior thesis" 
given through 
dark room photos 
Claws of a lion
her mouth foaming
like a rabid dog
In front of the other parents
aghast at the sight of her rage
I felt those nails dig further into my chords
as the episode dragged on 
SHE Clawed the portraits 6ft wide and 10ft high 
off the wall into ribbons they went
ripping the writings

an entire
in one night
jaws dropping
my teacher crying
I took a walk

365 DAYS of
that part which extends their wings
and reaches out to their mommy 

"You are writing about drugs, sex, and eating disorders!
I can't imagine what other people think!"
was enough to batter me from the inside out

I don't want to think about that pain that follows me
Instead I shut my eyes 
feel the sun on my face
Hello my lake Michigan 

looking out at that familiar skyline
to the south west sway
I looked to my left 
there on the bench...

what kind of woman is under
that large hat
few plastic bags tangled in her lap
couldn't stop from blowing away
as well as her Monet like hat
walking she came briskly over 

I was too terrified
so I looked away
avoiding the chance of  meeting her eyes
to connect 

I don't want to die yet!! 

She wore the same rugged carpenter pants
Had a progressively 
why bother looking feminine look
rat-nest hair beautifully chaotic
made her beautiful to me 

she grabbed her walking stick
I thought
( does she have anybody to love)
(Is there anybody who is wondering)
(used to co ordinating Sundays)
with this women in front of me

She hangs her head so low
walks pelvis front first
Male energy emanating 
from the rest of her curves

Her pants were exactly like mine
Cargo extra pockets and cut to the ankle
so we don't trip
IT was the mere fact that she grabbed
the walking stick
did I know she was a witch
I was starring back
into the future broken
parts of me

i don't want to die
I don't want to be alone
i don't want to always be broke
I don't want to get old

I want to stay in my 20s forever
I want to live in the comforts of very little 
physical pain
I want to quit smoking
I want to look into the shadow work
that is needed
to heal me

So that I don't end up alone 
walking stick as my only friend 
every Sunday playing with plastic bags
only to end this life
with the grave digger 
to see me to the very end

I was given the walking stick to guide me where I go.... 
I am the mother of the abandoned children that never knew a home

This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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