Sorry, I have a poetry degree

Yes, it's true. I, Tricia Huckaby, got my degree in poetry. But you have to admit, rarely do I force any of you to check out what I write. Mostly because I don't write anything, har har har. Today you have the unfortunate luck of reading our blog on the one day when inspiration has struck and I've decided to try to write a poem. What??! I know. It's crazy. Gee Dad, all those thousands of dollars on college weren't a waste after all.

At Our House

Our metal roof cracks its knuckles
as shadows pull from the kids' windows
to the opposite side
It's 13:30 and the clouds begin
their afternoon meeting for prayers
Power's out and I'm spread out
Heat pulses from my sky blue cement
sometimes pleasant, sometimes too pushy
And I'm tired of this today
I feel the tink of dehydration
in my temples and at the top of my neck

Nothing is really wrong
but nothing works
You are still you and I am still me
and everything is the same
and everything is fine
and you are the same yesterday, today, and forever
But I'm tired, Lord, I'm tired
Tight and hot and lonely
sometimes altogether and it makes me
tired, Lord, I'm tired

Almost twelve months but not
twelve months and the cracks get bigger
and cement chunks and paint chips and toilet seats
and birds are scratching
and building a nest in the mats in the ceiling
They're stealing my quiet time
with their squawking and cheeping
Almost, but not even that much time, not even 
a year here in this house
And building feels like breaking
and rising seems like falling
and I have to remember that your wisdom often seems foolishness
in this world, and in this house

Time does his work perfectly well here
The over-achiever, and no one keeps him
and no one tips him
Gray gets grayer
White gets tanner
and termites trail their trails
and I'm getting thinner and fatter at the same time
But you are still you and I am still me and everything is fine
Sometimes a nap is best at nap time


Matt Martinson said…
"Tink" and "trail their trails" are wonderful--me gusta.