meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

      Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2017 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   261737 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry

   


Read Poetry
Hope You Enjoyed The Eclipse While It Lasted

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Life's A Candle

Written For My Father Who Isn't Here To Know

The Light Goes On In The Attic



Circumstance Changes All

I Am....( a keen observation )

(A Prayer of Intercession--Brief Joy)

Malla Batsick

not the story of my youth

Into The Swirling Sea Of White.

Tuesday afternoon in the jewelry box

What If

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

the slave is freed

So You Do (May 10, 2010 written for June 1987)

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

All Beings Considered

A Little Bit of Harlem in Your Life

The Secret Eater

Max on the max

Ramada

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

A Man Called Tsuris

For The Loss Of A Ghost Like You

Love A Cat

Fragile Shell Of Morning

I Long For Stars

I Feel Fine(r)

The Crow Is A Songbird

Sometimes Love Comes With Electricity

And With Words I Let Them Go

More Poetry >>

 
Features

  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook

 
   

When He Returns From The Road


********
********

when He returns from the road
I wiggle my nose
pretend my midnight blanket
is a cloaking device
I've learned the trick of breathing under water
I will myself to become a diver in the ocean
breathing slowly but without bubbles
which might lead Him to my hiding hole

when He returns from the road
we wear Teflon pajamas to bed
regrow the cotton fields in our ears
lay out the tarps beforehand
in preparation for any foul weather
we've steeled our raw nerves against
the tide of His rising thunder
and His furious fist of lightning

when He returns from the road
how we bolt up or out of our beds
this, for us, is our return journey
into a continuum of many dark nights
see how the house lifts high off the foundation
see how when it never quite settles in the same place
see how we all fall down into the basement
to be exposed in our make-shift hiding space

when He returns from the road
our Mother is never fully at home with herself
she's hied to the castle of her room
high in the tower's furthest sheltered turret
far removed from her daughter and sons
see how the little blind mice run

when He returns from the road

previously written directly to the page
edited again on July 8th 2017 7:30pm PST
work in progress
July 7 2017 7:29pm PST
legal copyright for this work/poem
and also by this author/writer
Melissa A. Howells and also for this legally copyrighted
site title:Meloo Straight from Her Tilt-a-World
(yes, there is real legal copyright for this site title)





Vote for this poem

Please Comment On This Poem

Comments

 Email Address

 

Vote for this poem