the poetry knook :: the poetry of stephen m. james :: indianapolis, indiana » child http://www.tpkpoetry.com the poetry of stephen m. james Fri, 28 Mar 2014 01:04:39 +0000 en-US hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.8.3 Goodbye Owingsville (’92), Goodbye Elementary (’94), Goodbye School (’05) http://www.tpkpoetry.com/poetry/goodbye-owingsville-92-goodbye-elementary-94-goodbye-school-05/ http://www.tpkpoetry.com/poetry/goodbye-owingsville-92-goodbye-elementary-94-goodbye-school-05/#comments Mon, 30 Nov -0001 00:00:00 +0000 He knew others had to talk first,
had to make their move, watch his eyes
ask how he did his tricks:
slid the slide, swung the swing, how he’d fly,

He knew from his backyard porch and oak tree perch, he’d spy
them and play till supper, till dark,
they were here for T-ball, PTO, parents working late,
it was his ground, his yard, his park,

He knew how to spin, to start
the small merry-go-round,
to make you sick,
lean out, legs bound,

He knew which swing chains sound
squeak or sat high enough to glide
left jaundiced palms,
had uneven sides,

He knew where in the rocket ship tree to ride,
to hide under the trailers of special ed,
dragons guarded dungeons
and climbed the web without being wounded,

He knew that jungle gyms were more than houses founded
for girls to fix supper in or teach school,
Gary was a shorter, but stronger bully,
and one always jumps the tile cracks in school

He knew which gutter spout to climb to the roof,
teachers’ kids just played basketball,
rocks were rubies and gold,
the seriousness of his mom’s third supper call.

]]> http://www.tpkpoetry.com/poetry/goodbye-owingsville-92-goodbye-elementary-94-goodbye-school-05/feed/ 0 In the case of the life of the mother http://www.tpkpoetry.com/poetry/in-the-case-of-the-life-of-the-mother/ http://www.tpkpoetry.com/poetry/in-the-case-of-the-life-of-the-mother/#comments Mon, 30 Nov -0001 00:00:00 +0000 “I guarantee! or your friendship back”
he promises
lay down your problems and back IN my paper tray,
I’ll journal, write now
and male them OUT next Wednesday’s
child is full of Roe, love is murder?
choosing some
aborting hundreds of little verses
and I consented to everyone, every time,
“Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?” Trying to pick up
the paper whispers in my ear
that my pen is running up and down the page–
just like men, no commit,
my uterus expands for another and
halts its periodic ink
for my beautiful child.

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