The morning session for Martha's Vineyard Institute of Creative Writing Writers' Conference was centered on love and loss. Again, these poems were done during the open writing time, so they will probably be revised later.
The first part of the session was looking at how love is displayed through ordinary moments. It made me think about a somewhat joke that my wife thinks I'm sexy when I clean, so I went with that idea to a degree with the following poem.
“20 Years”
After 20 years together
She’s heard every line I’ve used in college
We’ve danced in bars
And around the kitchen island
I still play my CDs loud in the minivan
My six offspring
Moan as I sing to the 80s on 8
But we are all silent when she sings
Her first name is odd on my tongue
Her hairstyle changes
With the time left in the morning
We fall asleep too early
Yet stay awake until the teens come home
This love was built on late night whispers
But it is sustained
In the clean rows left on the carpet
After I vacuum.
The second part of the session was diving into loss through those ordinary moments. The poem I wrote is based from something my half-brother said after he lost his partner.
"Silence"
The hallway
Our pictures in your favorite frames
The kitchen
Too much coffee sitting in the carafe
The patio
Sunlight reflecting off the flower pots
All is silent
It feels like it will stay this way forever
Just yesterday your voice echoed off of the picture frames
Bounced on the table settings
And sank onto my skin like the sun
As we sat drinking lemonade
I feel the air
Still and unwavering
An emptiness
Filling the space we shared
I am drowning in it
Lungs burning
My heart in a panic
I am blinded by more than tears
If I open the door I know the world will be swamped
By this silence
I move slowly through the aching silenced
of all the times I won’t hear you say
“I love you.”
The afternoon session was an ode to joy, but was broken into different elements, like food, a body part, a moment. This poem isn't joyful, but that is OK.
“My Shoulders”
My shoulders hurt almost all the time
A quick movement
A different angle
Will bring a jolt of age to my teeth
I’ve carried so much over the years
Thousands of circles soothing my children
Father and daughter in orbit with the moonlight on the floor
Moved my whole home into a house overnight
Piggybacks
Parental expectations
I’ve shouldered for decades
My shoulder hurt almost all the time
The world seems to have lodged a spur
Into my collarbone
I can’t lift my arms up
To hold back the onslaught of its icons
I cry tears of pain
Of frustration
Holding myself up against the door frame
Fearful of the weight my children
Already carry on their shoulders
As they dart down
The front steps
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