"dazzle gradually"

"Dazzle Gradually" 2017 poems, paintings, new art & photography--a diary, a discipline, a delight. Read over my shoulder as I post my unedited poetry ---you can see it in the raw or get my first book and see how the work evolves with new books rolling out next year.


Polly Alice

Sunday, December 20, 2015

Tar Man

Ending the year with this poem about being a single mom living with family that help me out a lot. This is rather tongue in cheek but describes one of the days I had a while back that made me realize how opposite my life is from a few years ago. Now I have a new understanding so different from the stay at home mom that I formerly was.

Tar Man

Black tar star, Brer Star
You are no brother o' mine.
My wish stuck--no double slap
can get it gone. It's true,
I have finally become a man.

I come home from work
through traffic, my arms sore
my voice tired from meetings.
Get the mail, grumpy.
Inside the dogs do bark
so they get a pat on the head.
Good dog.
I trip over children's books
shoe strings, and hoods.

There's roast beef on the table
hot, even potatoes and something
green on the side. Taste so good
I have seconds then forget to
ask the kids about their
day because I talk about myself
and my new promotions, my
airy premonitions full of metal.

Then I sit in a leather
chair and pat my dog again.
Someone else has fed him,
cleaned the dishes, I don't
care who. I'm already
planning tomorrow in my
head.

Tomorrow is 40 years away.
I think about 401K, 591,
and work's bottom line, next
month's rent and taxes.
I doze by the
fire full until it's time
for bed. I'm too tired
to consider any Honey-do
list. What the kids
are learning in school
looks fine.

I've achieved it. I am a man.
Nothing bothers me,
I can't find anything in the house,
even the hammer.
Dust and smudge-blind
I only see the goals
under my fists at the
wheel.

Groceries, I didn't buy them
cook them, or put them away.
I don't care how much
they cost or what they
taste like. Ask me the season.
I see a ham on the table so
it's either Thanksgiving
or Easter or 'round about.

Anniversaries are
something they eat in France.
Christmas is expensive.
Church is the prenup for
a nap. . .

Brer Star, I just have
one more wish. Send
me a man, so I can be
the woman again.


No comments:

Post a Comment

Please leave your comments here.