Fallen Lashes

you sat on my lap

thoughtfully inspecting
the lines of my face
or stripes
as you and your sister
would call them
when the two of you
were so joyfully self-unaware
that such words
one day might seem
by few
to be not so cute

you quite sternly told me
as you held my face
in your small hands
to stop moving
as you squinted to remove
a lash from my cheek

and as you
so motherly
had me lick the tip of your finger
I made a wish
to be able to give you
all my fallen lashes
and the wishes they bring

Of Daughters, Dreams, and Sleepless Nights

I dreamed last night...

I dreamed last night they were dead.
How or why I don’t really know.
Did I forget or does it not matter?
We both realized it–
There was acknowledgement in our eyes.
Yet that’s as far as it went.
We both faded into each other’s distances.

There were people everywhere in the house (why were they here?)
I’ve dreamed of this house before.
I think it’s a collage of every house I have ever lived in (12!).
All over- painted flat white with over head frosted glass fixtures.
(I’ve always hated those.)
I moved around the rooms like a ghost tormented.
I couldn’t get the words out– if I did it would only be admitting they were gone
Why? Why– why!?
I can’t go on! Can I go on?
How do those parents go on?

I wove through the people– all in the process of getting dressed–
As though they were preparing to go to…
…a funeral??
But they can’t know yet. Neither one of us could muster the courage–
to utter the words…
yet everyone looked at me in that way…
Could they surmise from the anguish
clearly stretched over my frame?

I escaped to what I thought was an empty room.
I should have known otherwise
from the black jacket draped over a side chair next to the bed.
The bed creaked as I sat
on the edge (the edge ???)
and rested my head on the back of the chair.

I exhaled and wept.
I wept and wept.
I inhaled. Well, I tried to inhale.
All I could muster was a sickening gasp.
The more I tried to breath, the more my throat closed.
Air would not fill my lungs.
As if my body knew there was no longer need for air.

From a door to the left of the scene, stepped out my father in law–
shirt-tails un-tucked, collar up in mid knot.
“ The two of you are clearly upset–
every one’s muttering… what the hell’s going on?”

“…They’re gone!! “ I managed to growl.

He looked straight at me.
the camera tightened up around his big shaved head–
a clear shot of the red spotted toilet tissue blotter on his upper lip.
He clamped his temples and yelled
“How could YOU let this happen?!”

In the dream I awoke.
I was standing in a room.
Yes– a room I’ve dreamed of before…
From behind me– a voice (my father’s?)
“Are you alright?”
I stared down at my feet.
Beneath them an old wooden floor–
I could see dirt between the split seams
with the over-painted baseboard creating a horizon,
punctuated by one of those rubber-tipped door stops.
The rubber tip was gone.
Once more “are you alright?”

I exhaled and wept.
I wept and wept.

I watched the tears fall from my eyes
like bombs dropped from the belly of a B29.
Just as they found their target
I muttered:

I dreamed last night they were dead.

And in the dream I awoke.

–nc

Lobotomy on the Rocks Please!

or: Of Fathers and Daughters, Part 1 Of What Will Be a Very Long Series.

A severe shock to the system:
Upon exiting the bathroom after my morning shower, I turned my head to the left into my eleven year old daughter's room to see her rousing with a broad stretch and yawn. I walked in and sat on the edge of her bed. She looked at me through her long brown tangles and whispered "good morning". I said good morning back– and through the tangles I caught a glimpse of her face in three quarter profile. I noticed a slight change in her features. Could it be she changed from only yesterday? A change which made her not only more mature, but also what I think is a prophecy of what she'll look like as an adult. A beautiful, exotic-looking adult. 
I almost immediately needed to blink out the tear from my eye when, as though she sensed it, she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek in a way that almost said "It'll be alright dad!"
I ran the edges of the brown tangles through my fingers for a few seconds, then quietly rose to leave her room (or was it to leave my mind?). I turned once more and she smiled at me. In an instant– as if a camera flashed– I saw a picture of what she might look like years from now, giving a morning greeting to a room mate, or dare I say to a lover or spouse. I felt the creaky oak floor beneath me tear open and swallow me whole! 


The space between the hours and the days and the years grows shorter– as does the space between my latent tears.