Hey y’all. I’ve been participating in National Poetry Month with a challenge through Writing Heights. And let me tell you, nothing humbles you more than being in the presence of such amazingly talented poets (especially when they all decry their lack of talent). We didn’t have any gentleman join us in the challenge, and I will say that I think the supportive structure of mature women in a safe environment really gave birth to vibrant and visceral work. It reminds me how powerful women are. How intelligent. How kind. How empathetic. Am I saying that men are not these things? No. I’m saying that for too long women in this weird patriarchal, capitalist, christian nationalist environment have been silenced, reduced to objects, and vilified for expressing themselves. It is grounding to know, despite the illusions spread to keep them subservient, women are in fact the creators.
That was a long intro to these poems. One, from a prompt this month. One I wrote as an exercise. Neither edited much. Enjoy, and if you were insulted by the previous paragraph…stop reading my blog.
Insomnia (a pantoum)
I am sitting at home, on the south side of a once-small Colorado town
I used to hear crickets, but now there are sirens
The dog snores, unbothered, and my wristwatch patiently counts seconds I no longer own
I can see the faint glow, of a nightlight down the hall
I used to hear crickets, but now there are only sirens
There is a coldness where a warm love used to lie, beside me, tucked away
I can see the faint glow of a nightlight down the hall
Time has taken the children from the rooms, but I keep them plugged in
There is a coldness, where a warm love used to lie
And I feel it, tucking away from me, lonely and quiet
Time has taken the children from the rooms, but I keep them plugged in
I’ll never sleep the way I used to, when I knew we were all safe
And I feel it, over and over, love tucking away from me lonely and quiet
The dog snores unbothered, and the wristwatch ticks away the seconds I no longer own
I’ll never sleep the way I used to, when they were down the hall
I am sitting, up in bed, once a home, on the lonely side of a once-small Colorado town.
Them
tom-boy
rough and tumble
the feral ruler
of broken-down neighborhoods
in dying mining towns
knew no gender
just the horsepower of my
skinned-kneed legs
and the unfettered mane
more wild adherent to herd
than human girl or boy
wind-tossed and unmanageable
out in sunlit days with any
able-bodied child my height
who could keep up
invent dragons
and build castles in trees
uncategorized,
unencumbered by expectations
of bows
or army men
dolls or
trucks
why not both?
why not all?
aren’t our hearts really just
wildings?
in the beginning
we were all
unfettered dragons,
able-bodied castles
nurturing friends
and fauna
in trees alike
we were all
‘them’
Sarah Reichert Author 