At the Movies
As I walk into the dim room,
a movie is playing
and my mom is watching intently.
I am there but I am not there,
an ephemeral planet in the making.
A spectral vision.
A light and dark murky chiaroscuro.
Where is this place, this mansion, this spaceship?
Who are these people really in
this other reality?
Drowning in the refuse,
morphed back into pulp.
I can’t see for instance:
my mother’s searing invectives
my father’s unraveling tongue
This is not my home.
A breeze falls from a nearby tower and has no place to go,
I strain under the awkward weight of
a branch swarming with worms and bird droppings.
A bowl of foreign coins.
Then I walk into another room
and my sister,
a desert away,
is watching the moving images intently,
like a mirage.
Again I see my obscure picture on the screen,
holding forth in animation
Only someone else is talking.
Falling stacks of mismatched dinnerware
with nowhere to go.
To read the rest of this article, please visit NAIWE member Rhonda Morrison's blog.