Sun Goes Down Bitter
Sunset is the saddest light there is
when it signals another night
for a blighted, blindfold family
Threats shouted, curses thrown
‘cross the supper table
flung like mashed off a ladle
Someone always slams palms down
Leaves in a huff, mumbling stuff
This time it’s Dad – which is really bad
Cause he’s mad at Mom, anxious
When he’s anxious he wants some
and he’ll take it from someone
who’s smaller than he is
Can’t talk back, can’t fight back
Can’t swallow her vitamin in the morning
© 2014 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Susie at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, “Play it Again, Toads.” I chose a line (“Sunset is the saddest light there is…”) from Sue Monk Kidd’s The Secret Life of Bees, a book I read years ago and now must read again.
The thought of summer sunsets, very sad. Alcohol for Mom all afternoon… two martinis for Dad – after he had stopped for a drink with the guys. He was quick to anger, yet completely arbitrary… kept his buttons hidden from us, but if Mom knew he was “in the mood,” she’s spark a fight and later go to her room and lock the door.
So much for the safely of the suburbs and the oft-Tea-Partied “stability of two-parent families.” I’d have given anything to get them a divorce! Peace, Amy
PS I am not posting much, but I am in a cycle of artwork: acrylics, India Ink, pastels, courtesy of Cornucopia Arts Center of Madison, WI, a free center for neurodivergent people. I’ll try to sneak in some art next time. A
He’s Gone (for George)
He’s a bust-my-buttons hello
A faithful friend; we’ve
weathered some shitstormish eras
when nothing made sense
(save ourselves and
our good opinion of each other)
The kind of friend you can hug
and not let go
and know
it never has to get weird
The one who understands
the digressions of an alcoholic parent
who is like a child – and can
also laugh at some of the confusion
The one with whom you can
watch movies in total silence
or howl and poke each others’
arms, like “yeah!”
He hit the road again
just now
and I wrote this to remember
He’s a quick-before-we-cry
goodbye
An endless paradox
An understandable conundrum
He’s George
© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Some friends you keep forever. After forty years of our friendship and many years of knowing my husband too, George will always be a part of our lives. We should all be so lucky to have someone like that in our lives!
Posted at ABC Wednesday (V is for VISIT!) and in the margins at Poets United and Imaginary Garden With Real Toads. Peace, Amy
Sharp Little Pencil 