–For my daughter

If I could relive my life, backtrack

take a different route. Instead of turning away

from the mirror resigned to do what my boyfriend wanted, I would be stronger, not weak and insecure, unravelling. . .he would have eventually married me, I am sure of it now, as sure of it as I am sure of anything in this life, as sure as you.

I would have had a different daughter; you would be lost, no

gone.

If I had had my voice, if I had had my knowledge, he wouldn’t, couldn’t win that one. That voice, that choice leads inevitably to

another daughter–not you. No

you would be lost. No

gone. And me? I would be

someone else. I choose

this one, this life, you

over and over and over again.

again, this time

taking another path.

a different choice

inevitably leads to

another daughter, me

someone else.   I choose

this one,

over and over again.

People reappear,

showing up masked,

as someone else:  tall lanky Mr. Jackson

who spent half his time in English class adjusting

his junk.  Standing at the front of the room with his Scooby-Doo haircut

and disheveled tie. I had no chance.  I was

the geeky girl with no idea,

swayed by what might have been.

lost, seeing through dark curtains, smoke

so thick everything distorted,  a blurry

cartoon, swipes of color behind closed eyes.  I can’t see!

The tragic hero

showing up unannounced

in my dreams.  What poor choices would

he make next? With his mopey face and

sad eyes; and me, years

later,  tossing the past

out the window, shreds

of paper, old

love letters in the wind; words

disappear.

 

 

 

Late nights filled with empty

wanderings, voices blaring, blurring;

I come home drained, hoping for something

to soothe the day clean, like sheets pulled taut on a bed waiting.

I hear children scream, complaining, something I have done,

some word said or not said.

This dance in middle age,

carrying baggage wrapped in skin.

The door of my dream snaps open

and no one is there.  My daughter’s father

is somewhere far away,

pursuing whatever it is

that’s chasing him.  I see him

in that gray cotton bathrobe.  He smells of this

and other things.