undeliverable packages
we’re not expecting any fireworks
this year are we
she yells from the other room
(I think she’s talking to someone
on the goddamn phone again)
why in the hell are you asking about
fireworks I yell back
it’s only january for fuck’s sake
but it’s too late
the package has been delivered
and the driver has gotten away
it’s strange how silence
can be so deafening
it’s difficult to fall into a deep sleep
eyes routinely blinking
like an old film projector
telling silent stories
eventually the movie ends
usually in a whimper
and I slowly reach consciousness
only to discover the time of day
it’s four a.m. and
somewhere I hear a mother crying
january two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
More on this later, after it has sunk in more, but for now …
The ending takes me to a very deep, and special, place. I remember taking care of my mommy’s broken heart when my dad was missing for days, off on a binge. So for me, there’s a very unique kind of compassion and love that comes from a child to his/her parent — especially Mommy.
I read this as being about a mother and her son, not a man but not a boy … 14 maybe … Anyway, I think the dad beats them. I also think the boy might drink or get high to block some of it out.
I happy this one finds you thinking about the possibilities this poem has to offer. Thank you so much for your thoughts and comments.
Dreams like these are often warnings. Fireworks a symbol of awe. I am glad I had no such dream. I hope that your writing of it broke the spell. Wonderful words to get people thinking and talking. What the best poets do.
Thank you Denise, and I sure hope it broke the spell as well!
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