These two interlocked pieces sit on the mantel, rough and unfinished, but the forms are distinct and my intentions are clear. Perhaps one day I’ll sand them—or, perhaps, not—since I have no idea what God intends for me. I take my life from day to day, from moment to moment. The two pieces remind me of love relationships—resting upon one another but separate, interlocked but free.
August 20, 2009 1 Comment
We sit together in the bedroom
My mom and dad and I
Reduced by age to our barest outlines
His identity held in place only by his skin
Hers by her vanity
For she looks at herself in the mirror whenever I speak.
I study her eyes and know what she sees
For it is what I see myself:
A madman without a center,
A woman obsessed with her image,
And a son who observes everything
An amalgam of both
Helpless to change it.
August 20, 2009 Comments Off