March 8, 2024.


hey mama - hey sis

I sit on a damp piece of wood
held steady by two concrete blocks
And I stare at the two tombstones
Situated side by side

ďHey mama, hey sisĒ, I say aloud
My eyes always jerk backwards to make sure itís just us
ďWish we could stop meeting like this,
Wish I could be next to Ďyuns in the groundĒ

But I can hear them now - almost
I can imagine the words but I canít fathom the sound
Odd, I guess - canít really remember my momís voice
Until I hear an old recording and then I break down

Itís familiar but itís foreign
Sometimes I even look at photographs and
Iím not entirely sure if I just made her up,
Some sort of imaginary friend Iím scared to mention

I pick dandelions there in the Spring
Yellow was my sisterís favorite color, which was funny,
Because she mostly wore black
I guess Iím trying to give color to her death

I pick up the litter that people throw
When theyíre drinking at these horse shows
And throw beer bottles over the edge of the road
Not realizing thereís a graveyard below

And I pick up the fake flowers that have
Crawled off from the strong winds
Just covered in dirt and rolly pollies
That I confide in like friends




Poetry by aidan haskel The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 69 times
Written on 2024-03-08 at 18:49

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R.W.S. The PoetBay support member heart!
Beautifully written. I especially love the fifth and last stanzas!
2024-03-09