I'm not sure why I usually don't publish a poem on this blog until after I have had it critiqued in my poetry class. Everything else I write is off the cuff, and I don't even wear cuffs. But we didn't have poetry class this week because a visiting author was holding a book reading. I am proud to say our poetry class was well represented, which was a good thing, since few others attended. Because of this event, the two poems I wrote during my muse mugging last week have been hiding in my nightstand while I have been stumped for subjects to blog about. So today I will publish one that, with or without a critique, pleases me. A person who knows me well enough to read this blog will understand who this is about.
Never for Donny
She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do
she was a big sister, not a mother,
she had no grown up wisdom to share.
So she let him rest his head on her shoulder while he cried.
She wished she could tell him
everything would be alright
but she couldn't,
she couldn't make everything alright.
He couldn't hold it in all the time--
the way he got treated because he was different.
He had been born different.
She could make the neighborhood kids
and her own friends
treat him like a normal person--
not call him RE tard,
but she couldn't control what happened in school.
So she just let him cry
big, sloppy tears on her shoulder
and tried not to get upset about the snot on her shirt.
She could clean that up later.
The tears would dry.
She and Donny would start teasing and fighting again.
Everything would go back to normal
except for Donny--
never for Donny.
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