Poem 24

I cry out for you sometimes 

when I am among the yarrow

and its yellow regalia 

that splashes across the acres I find myself in. 

I am crying out for you now

as the begonias sway at my hip 

as if the tears and sheer heaves of my body 

are songs and they move on key. 

I have an itch for the south that plagues my side. 

It is the desert

It is my windswept cheeks

and scrunched toes in worn boots 

that pulls me under. 

A love I could hold forever, 

a doormat to the best wrap around porch you’ve ever seen

and I haven't let got it it. Not yet. 

And yet, when I am here, among the prairies and the cattails 

with the breeze caressing my face—

When I see my parents eyes (how they age with each split fragment)

 When I place my toes in the water lilies 

the green edges of the pond that houses frogs and cheeky tadpoles 

(family affair) 

and then when I am engulfed in corn rows

bulk stalks of evergreen 

where cicadas sit atop and sneer at me. 

When there is the marsh, and the streams 

dragonfly whispers—

Do I find that I am overcome with emotion. 

I wonder why I left or why I keep staying away. 

When all this is here

And I am not. 

My parents grow old and I am withering away in Texas. 

I shed my chrysalis annually 

and my mother is not around to carefully pick off 

the stray edges 

and help me wipe the milkweed drops from my tired eyes. 

Why did I ever leave 

I cry out for you sometimes

when I am standing out here lost in the stillness. When I am all alone. 

To be frank, I wish you were here. 

But there are times where I am selfish and desire this all for my own keeping. 

A locket with no key. 

The cattails mimic my moans 

and the bullfrogs overpower my screams. 

And I walk home, besotted, to the loving wrinkles of old age.