Words do not come easy this morning
In this my holding cell,
This state of in between.
Months of wait for this,
Wait for that.
I’ll feel settled, peaceful,
When my house is built,
When I’ve moved back,
When my spirit and body
Are no longer hemmed in a tiny apartment,
When winter breaks,
When spring arrives,
When I can no longer remember a North Texas sky,
When I can no longer remember you
Before I pulled the curtain away.
The fantasy of you seemed so real—
A dream come true—
A dream pitted against the reality of you,
A dog fight tearing me into tiny bits.
Now I glue and duct tape myself
Back together the best I can.
I may be missing a bit here and
A shred or two there. But they will
Scar over under the duct tape and glue.
Until one day soon,
When all the duct tape and glue
Have worn away,
When I am sitting in my own backyard,
Watching my little dog play,
The Dorothy in me will say,
I never needed to “look any farther than my own backyard—”
And I’ll remember nothing much
Of the woman in front of or behind the curtain.
I am a retired teacher, enjoying said retirement. I have been active in the gay and lesbian community since I threw away my Ken doll at the age of four.
You can read more of my writing at Hearing The Mermaids Sing