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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
June 13, 2015
There Are No Fond Memories of the Garage Sale by KoppelDoppel has a rhyme scheme that feels absolutely natural.
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Suggested by neurotype-on-discord
Literature Text
We sold the old maternal dress.
The round fade on the worn womb
was greyed and thin. Someone left
a hole unstitched, a hem unpressed.
Everything that went too soon
had stuck around: the old blue dress,
the rocking horse, the rusted wrest
we thought we lost. We never tuned
the baby grand. The sound it left
became a prank to play on guests:
a soundtrack for an empty room,
a child’s ghost inside the dress.
We’ve come so far from being pests.
The blood that rushed to soothe the wounds
our mother’s wooden spoon had left
is calm. We are ready to forget –
un-know the pain. We assume
our mother sold the dress,
as grey and thin as someone left.
The round fade on the worn womb
was greyed and thin. Someone left
a hole unstitched, a hem unpressed.
Everything that went too soon
had stuck around: the old blue dress,
the rocking horse, the rusted wrest
we thought we lost. We never tuned
the baby grand. The sound it left
became a prank to play on guests:
a soundtrack for an empty room,
a child’s ghost inside the dress.
We’ve come so far from being pests.
The blood that rushed to soothe the wounds
our mother’s wooden spoon had left
is calm. We are ready to forget –
un-know the pain. We assume
our mother sold the dress,
as grey and thin as someone left.
Literature
85
Five children, seventeen grandchildren. Still alone.
Literature
Moments
Remember that time we sat on the bench together, waiting for the bus? You were quiet, like you always were, and I thought nothing of it. But then you turned to me, an unreadable look in your eyes, and you asked me what I liked most about life. I just stared at you, unsure how to answer. You seemed to take my silence as something bad.
“Never mind,” You mumbled. “It was a stupid question.”
“No, no.” I hurried to assure you. “I was just thinking. What I like best about life would probably be all the little moments that happen that end up meaning so much and all the people you meet along the way.”
Literature
One, two, three
My boyfriend watched, open mouthed
as I unscrewed the lid of your urn,
and ran my fingers through your ashes.
Your depression, your soul dust.
I felt an ocean rolling under my ribs
and an urge to cradle your urn,
rock you back and forth
like you did for me when I was young.
-
At the funeral, my uncle announced
that you hated religion.
But he left out the part
where you did believe in a God,
just that he was always punishing you.
-
“There was nothing you could have done”
said the other uncle.
I think of all those spent wishes,
the birthday candles extinguished for gifts,
the meteor showers I wasted on love,
the prayers offered from
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I have yet to be more proud of a piece than this one. Previously published in the 49th issue of Western Washingon University's annual journal, Jeopardy.
Comments29
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Ahh! Love the rhyme scheme so much. The rhythm, your word choices, everything about this poem just sounds so good in my ears. Beautiful.