Poem: Gone Sister

This is poetry, not memoir or autobiography. All resemblance to people living or dead is coincidental. Art featured above is“Carriage House” by Jean Banas, acrylic on canvas, 48″ x 52.″ Poem and art originally published in R.KV.RY Quarterly

Gone Sister

She never fell from her frantic
mare as it reared and twisted
in the mustard fields.
Never plummeted
off an unexpected cliff
at the end of Swift Street
when she drove high speed
in her ‘67 Karmann Ghia,
and  flipped out on acid.

She survived her wild childhood,
to divide her time
between three western states.
Summers in Coos Bay, visits in the fall
with the willing men of Moab,
winters spent
floating across borders,
visiting boneyards of the old days
in this dirty California town,
where she learned the ways
of wayward surfers, smoked dope
at the Garden Mall with strangers,
searched the Boardwalk
at four in the morning
for some stringy-haired boy
to bring home.

Bull-whipped child grown bold,
cast out by our parents at eighteen
their violence aimed back at them,
when she tipped the table,
stood, screaming, at Christmas.
Even our father’s fists
slamming her face,
our mother dropping her off
at the Cocoanut Grove
in tight, lime-green pants
and padded torpedo bras,
to bring back some fatherless boy
to serve as the next
handsome farmhand —
none of it killed her.

Without family, she’s alive,
sixty-six in a jet-black wig
and Grace Slick bangs, the same
as when she was seventeen
and I was twelve,
her big dark eyes inked
with liquid liner, lashes blackened,
her plump mouth
shiny with pale gloss, open,
as if calling out.

1 Comment

  1. Dion- Your work is visceral…. I remember my childhood as mostly idyllic where yours was not. We lived close but were not close, I never knew. It seems you have found your voice…

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s