|
Poetry by Rhonda Parrish
Hush I laze on the front porch my creaky old chair rock, rock, rocking while moonlight crawls across the lawn every little blade of grass casts its own shadow in the blue-white light and crickets foolishly call out their locations to the bullfrogs who sing in celebration as they feast. A wind shushes though the grasses and reeds, ripples over the pond’s surface disturbing the reflection of a woman long blonde hair drip drip dripping and eyes empty as the old well in the West quarter I still the rocker, hold my breath barely dare to blink. No woman stands in the reeds along the shore nor wades in the shallow, stagnant water. No physical form, nothing from this world, casts the reflection, and I’ll not be so easily caught as the crickets.
She Laughed because tears because screams would have been blood in the water and the sharks were circling close she laughed though fear ripped at her throat and Their ragged fingernails tore at her jeans her skin she laughed and They laughed too —the pair doing the tugging the pulling-- They laughed along with those surrounding her circling her… row upon row of serrated teeth smiles laughing leering… she heard the click click click of every tooth on her zipper as it betrayed her click click click and she laughed, kicking and flailing bucking and twisting struggling to keep clothed when escape came (a bell calling the sharks to class) she gathered her tattered self, her scared and shattered self, and went to the Principal he shrugged, he said, “but you laughed,” she tried to explain about tears and sharks about showing weakness about fear “But did you say no?” He asked, “while those Boys—” “Sharks,” she corrected. “while those Boys were trying to take off your jeans did you say no?” “i kicked. i twisted,” she said. “i flailed and bucked.” “but did you say no?” she took His words His tone, His scorn His message she pulled it deep, deep inside-- the jagged shard around which to build a festering, seething pearl-- she wrapped herself around it encompassed it held it close added to it from time to time… and when its poison had done its work She came back incorporeal wrists dripping red with rows upon rows of serrated teeth She hunted them found them and they bucked and flailed and writhed and screamed and She laughed The Last Time I Was Here The first time I returned your back was bent, broken with sorrow. I wanted to see your face but your hands, your big strong hands, covered it while your shoulders spasmed with the strength of your sobs… The next time I was here your spine was straight and though your eyes were sad your face was round, belly a pot, from someone else's cooking. I was happy you weren't stuck, as I was, but sad, so sad, you'd moved on so quickly… When next I came back children in the other room were hushed by their mother, by each other -- "Leave Daddy alone today, it's the anniversary of a sad, sad day." But your pain had been tempered by time into a wistful sadness rather than a gnawing ache… The next time I returned, I heard the patter of grandchildren's feet and my fury knew no bounds. It's not fair! Some other woman was living my life, the life I, I was meant to have. I thundered and raged but all I could do was knock my dusty photograph off her wall… The last time I was here, your back was bent, broken by time, your hair sparse and gray, skin thin as wasp paper. Soon, I thought, soon my wait will be over, we'll be together again but when she came in the room and I saw how you smiled up at her… I said goodbye.
💀💀💀 Like a magpie, Rhonda Parrish is constantly distracted by shiny things. She’s the editor of many anthologies and author of plenty of books, stories and poems. She lives with her husband and cats in Edmonton, Alberta, and she can often be found there playing Dungeons and Dragons, bingeing crime dramas or cheering on the Oilers. Her website, updated regularly, is at http://www.rhondaparrish.com and her Patreon, updated even more regularly, is at https://www.patreon.com/RhondaParrish
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
about the hostLinda Gould hosts the Kaidankai, a weekly blog and podcast of fiction read out loud that explores the entire world of ghosts and the supernatural. The stories are touching, scary, gruesome, funny, and heartwarming. New episodes every Wednesday. |
RSS Feed