phantom limb

boards blades wheels

catching air

glide spin turn

legs akimbo landing

 

gliding

In hindsight, I wish I had celebrated my body more, found a calling, an interest. But I always felt, was made to feel…not enough, never…enough., the things I found of interest were not worth time. 

The first fifteen years of gaslighting that was Mother filled every crevice. Sixteen years with the inattention of a husband committed only to himself shied me off connecting after it was done.

I’m hindsight, the continuance of the two years between should have been longer. At 53 I still struggle acknowledging my accomplishments and shrink at compliments from others. 

In hindsight is not a healthy place to live, but the present  can be difficult to celebrate. 

the Sun will fade

one two three four bruises 

low on my left leg

at and below the knee

I cannot say how they were got

only that they were noticed;

one deep cut on my shin

from a screwdriver dropping

the throbbing immediate 

another scar only I will know

another scar the Sun will fade

I fast forward through scenes

extraneous, evocatively meant

to elicit emotions but elicit 

sorrow for a life never-was

never-will manifest 

another scar only I will know

another  scar the Sun will fade

paint on hinges

takin’ paint off hinges

the hours they knew

stories past, stories lost

who will remember me?

who will recall?

packing photos, aside I set

things thought, things desired

people transient, moved along

kept where most in pockets of 

pocketless gowns never worn

anyways, 

               becoming layers of

paint on hinges