Author: Tamiko Lowery

Understand

it was what

he wasn’t saying

that I heard

and I wish

I’d had the words

but only

his Mama would

and I know

what he’d give

to have her here

to tell his troubles to

and she’d know

just what to do

“and they’d laugh

‘til they turned blue”

no more

and the sunlight

would stream

through the windows

of her country kitchen

and she wouldn’t waste

one minute

there’d be flour

everywhere

and pots bubbling

and chicken frying

and casseroles rising

and pies puffing

and lemons swimming in sweet tea

and he’d be whistling all the while

a happy tune

of better days

and it’d be

the best meal

he ever had

there

with his Mama

in her country kitchen

filled with words

of whispered wisdom

(I wrote this for Mitch Sneed

after we ran into each other at a yard sale in 2011.

Mitch is with his Mama now, July 2018)

TL

Obits

you’re born

and live a little

while

and somebody knows you

and nobody does

and you gather yourself

from “Great Expectations”

dark desperation

and hide yourself

behind a wall

and only on your knees

do you let it fall

and day turns tonight

and night turns today

and you chomp

about this

and that

and the other

and everybody loves you

and everybody hates you

and you get in the bed

and you close your eyes

and it’s the closest you’ll get

save the birth of your child

when you first fell in love

and the numbers turn

and you wake up

and you get out of bed –

whatever you call your bed

crib, twin, queen, king

car, street, ditch, bridge

and you go on …

at your best, at your worst

wounded or weary or whole

preceded by … survived by … restored by …

TL

Restless

the washer water

is rising to the line

the giant hands

that turn time

have cut into

the pie face

and taken

a generous slice

the dog

relieved himself

on the fern

and thought

it was funny

and that was

before coffee

and Myrtle the turtle

didn’t make it

her tiny funeral

last month

reminded me of

Spidy the cat

who went out

for a walk

and never came back

his elf bell collar

a warning to birds

was found in the forest

and whatever got him

wasn’t wearing a bell

TL

Human Nature

“if it bleeds,

it leads …”

that’s what they say

in the paper business

and people on the street

shake their heads and say

they’d rather bathe

in the fuzzy, feel-good fluff

not death, destruction and demise

“Oh, My!”

yet circulation is high

off a homicide

not so much

off a “Syrup Sop”

and so it is

and so it goes

sad stories sell

murder’s front page

“fall from grace”

headline every time

so, remember that

next time

you’re sitting there reading ‘bout

death, destruction and demise

“Oh, My!”

TL

One Way Street

to have

a car

or a truck

or a motorcycle

or a boat

or a mower

or a golf cart

or whatever on wheels

and climb aboard

whenever you please

owner of the key

and for decades

you’ve sat at the wheel

millions of miles

open and shut

crank and back up

cruise and return

and you know every bump

every back road and dead-end street

every turn, every stop, every bridge, every track

could close your eyes

and still get back

and then just like that

the key’s on the rack

and somebody tells you

you can’t go back

and for the rest of it

there’s a window seat

and you pass the same tree

go through the same neighborhood

sit at the same lights

and watch the person

to the right

owner of the key

sitting there

at the wheel

with millions of miles

to go

and they think

they know

where they’re going

TL

Mr. Smith

he used to

stand

in his driveway

staring

not sure at what …

but he’d stand

that way

for a while

each dawning day

there in his undershirt

and uniform pants

maybe he was admiring

the pristine green

that was his lawn

courtesy of his wife’s

diligent demeanor

 or maybe he was

following the wing

of a bird

or a butterfly

or a bee

he could have been

watching the wind

play with potted petals

or following the line

of his shadow

end to end

who knows

but him

later in life

he’d be joined

by a little, fluffy, yapping dog

white as his hair

that he’d treat like a child,

the child he never had

but the dog

did what dogs do

and got old

and sick

and too tired to yap

or stand in the driveway

guess he did, too

last week

he made his wife

a widow

after 59 years

but something

tells me

he’s staring

at her

each dawning day

TL

Porch

home is

an endless V of trees

a red apple

that fell up

a cardinal not of Rome

where the train trumpet blows

and the church bells chime

where the soft sun

readies for the moon

and sips the raindrops

off the roof

where an agile squirrel

swings from vine to vine

like a tiny Tarzan

where somebody’s grilling something

that smells awfully good

and the guy on the corner

catches a whiff

on his way to his horse

the one with the mechanical mouth

that chews all the grass

round his two-tiered box

where the loud voice

in the little, bitty body

draws closer

and closer

and further and further

from the creek

and then she’s there

dragging her daddy and her dog

leaves in her hair

dirt everywhere

speckled in sap

and powdered in pollen

she smells like

a forest in springtime

and where she is

is where I am

and I know

I’m home

TL

Stare

still, the cherished gift

is without coin

or care

it is a blink

like a small bird

that lands on a ledge

and sits there …

looking back at you

through the glass

that separates

the two

TL

Today

before they

sprinkle dust

on the door

let me be

more

TL

Silver

“violet eyes”

no longer blink

or beckon

or drip

TL

Away

and one day

as expected

as arguably accepted

we, too, shall

lie lone

and helpless

in the abyss

our skeletal selves

no longer ripe

or wrought with reason

our soul

at lift

no longer weighted

by our shells

or the longings

of our heart

our path

converged

“in a yellow wood”

we will

away …

TL

Orphans

is there

a deeper sorrow

than that

of a child

left on the bank

ever searching the sea

for the face

of her mother

the face

of his father

TL

Rays

opened the door

like the day before

and thought it was fall

standing there

but the breath was warm

wet with rain

sun’s been on siesta

but woke up yesterday

and walked around

with a palette and a paintbrush

and took to town

and followed a country road

like a steady stream

a dab of yellow fluttered by

lawns of green

stretched with imprints

petals ever shy

and the ladybug is back

on the launch pad

of my hand

TL

Moonlight

he couldn’t recall

any food at all

not a forkful

 

he couldn’t recall

any roof at all

not a shingle

 

he couldn’t recall

any laundered length

not a thread

 

he couldn’t recall

any wealth at all

not a shilling

 

he couldn’t recall

anything, anything at all

‘cept her silhouette

TL

Good Sleep

would that

you tire

a blanket

beneath that tree

rooted where

long you stood

long you stared

but the fog

it sat there

and fell asleep

and dreamed

of spring

an evergreen

and there you woke

fresh and free

a bed of bluebells

“far as the eye could see”

TL

Character

it’s not elementary

it’s not that easy

it’s not about

yes and no

good and bad

“thank you” and “you’re welcome”

truth and lies

hello and goodbye

it’s not about

all your good works

accolades and fair-weather fans

it’s not about

what they think of you

it should never be that

or you’re through

if you believe

the gushing good

or the spit of hate

then it’ll always be that

even the one

who loves you most

can’t be that

alone you come

and alone you go

and what you do

in the “mean” time

the “hard” time

the “floor” time

the “tear” time

the “solitaire” time

is what it’s about

it’s getting outta that bed

back in the ring

face to the wind

cheek to the floor

stagger to stand

been there before

it’s the give out

not the give in

it’s the person

within

not

without

TL

First of March

under a budding

weeping willow

we ate our lunch

and watched

two ducks

dip their heads

underwater

and the rocks

along the bank

plopped in

and took a turtle swim

and the breeze blew

the willow strands

across our face

and the music

of rushing water

was surround sound

pushing the blaring bird

above our head

higher and higher

like the bubbles

Tiny blew

with her plastic wand

and park people

came and went

strolling or jogging or prone

and suppose

we’d still be there

tossing roses

had the sun not dipped

and so

we headed home

with two balloons

one to keep

and one to let go

TL

Marathon Man

there was

something

about him

that drew me over

alone in the corner

backlit by window rays

turned out

he lived

three doors down

his wife had long since died

his kids had their own lives

so, for social interaction

he’d go sit in a circle

somewhere at some senior center

and since he lived

three doors down

he asked me

to come visit him

sometime

so, I did

the house looked like

a woman lived there

like she’d be home soon

and there were photos

of him and her

everywhere

and I watched him

pour cat food in a bowl

and admired his medals

trophies and plaques

for he had run

and won

many, many marathons

but his body betrayed him

so went his mind

and one day

I saw him out my window

walking

and stopping

down the sidewalk

he was three doors down

but had forgotten

how to get there

and then suddenly

somebody in a truck

like his son or son-in-law or something

got him home

and next thing I knew

he was gone

knocked on the door

but nobody answered

and the neighbor hollered over the fence

that he was gone

that his family thought it best

to move him

and just like that

his black cat became somebody else’s pet

and his medals no longer shined

darkened in a box

and all those photos

of him and her

taken down

a “For Sale” sign

put up

and a newly married couple

still in the blush

of bright beginnings

moved in

with all their things

TL

Stirring

waist deep in dirt

neon vested

they shovel

holes

along a busy street

where the police

enforce the speed

at 30 mph

and on another street

there’s a guy

cowboy hat

on his head

cigarette

hanging outta his crook

waiting for his ride

or his bride

or something

and the billboard sign

depicts a fake fiesta

people not as they are

but as they wish they were

and a granny

in her zip-up robe

pushes her can

down the drive

and a guy

in a T-shirt and jeans

hauls lumber

on his shoulder

and a woman

with her bag

is headed to market

on foot

and the “Arbor Day” banner

is bouncing

off the wind

and the girl

at the desk

is wasting

her smile

on me

should be

gracing a magazine

and the specials of the day

are taking way

before the hungry herd

descends

and for a few

morning moments

before

they assume

their 8-hour position

they’re free

encapsulated in their cars

surging from a song

a wake-up cup

a cellular itinerary

FM news

or scattered thoughts

and the sun

is headed straight up

Central Standard Time

TL

Blue

funny

what you

let go of

what you keep

pass a mirror

clothed

hum a song

you don’t know

forget your dog

will die

think a thousand

Christmases are yours

close the closet door

until you can’t

pick up the petals

to put where

lie quiet on your bed

thinking far ahead

autopilot

blah, blah, blah

and the fan is turning

particles everywhere

and your body is changing

form

and your heart quickens

less and less

small talk

weighs you down

wish they were

wish they weren’t

shop, mop, chop, drop

turn a page

stare at the day

head on a pillow

no need for a pill

carrots over fries

skip the salt

fast-forward commercials

rewind

and every time

something fades

or falls

or frays

or folds

some part

of you

does, too

funny

what you

let go of

what you keep

TL