Monday, July 28, 2008

I Am Looking

I am looking at myself.
In the dog.
How he wanders, dallies, cleans his nails.
I am looking at a blanket, velvety yellow on the floor

where bad things can happen, the floor.
A feathery shiver traces my spine, then goes away.
Red chairs like twins,
sitting before a window full of trees.
A bookcase, dark brown espresso like I love.
I am looking at myself.
A house in my head, a longing for Mother,
not the one I have,

but the one I want, one who wanted me.
A page, from a tree.
I am looking at a tv, not blaring,

but here.
I am looking at books,

lives within them, the news.
Flowers on my pajama pants,

purple buds clinging to green vines.
A large pewter Buddha that blesses this home,

I am looking at.
My mind, the way she swirls with self persecution.
The way she loves fierce and primal.
I am looking at straws sticking up from the counter,

peeking over,
all colorful and funny.
A waxy candles waiting to be lit.
I am looking at 3 yoga mats, health, vitality.
I am looking at carpet stains,

vomit and spaghetti sauce,
reminds me of those bad things that happen to little girls on floors.
When I was little,

I pronounced spaghetti, “pas-getti”.

I knew how to say it, you see,

but I was looking to get my father to see me as cute,
and as I am looking now,
I wanted him to see me as a child,
a little girl who says “pas-getti”.
I am looking.

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