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"The
Art of Hiding and Revealing" Scott Odom
BELOW THE FLOOR
I live in the basement
beneath the footsteps.
The furnace whistles to me on cold days.
The washing machine hums to me at night.
My ex-wife lives one floor above,
10,000 miles away.
My daughters with wings
sail between heaven and earth.
Getting honey from the clouds
and iron from the brown soil.
My possessions are ideas.
My lovers names all rhyme.
My conquests are fictionalized.
The shadow side of home sweet home,
where a giant prowls naked
beneath the floor and ideas
grow during intercourse.
c2005 Charles P. Ries
~
FIRST BLOOD
(May 7, 2002)
"Your daughter's started her period!"
"What should I do?"
"Nothing, you're the dad.
Dads aren't supposed to know."
10 + 1/2 years is too soon.
She'll figure it all out.
Get it on with tampons, maxi pads, and Advil.
Doesn't seem fair. Showing up so early
when she still wants to be a boy.
Runs faster than any boy.
Of course I don't know about it.
Not invited into the Women Only Blood Club.
Staying clueless - the elegantly simpler gender.
My mind works on an impromptu ole'dad-soft-shoe
circle of women, full moon,
the ebb and the flow,
women's secrets, sisterhood,
and the Goddess Girl's Club,
but it's not working. Nothing sacred about any of this for me.
When I get home I hug her
"lets go for a coke and a hamburger"
...as if nothing's happened.
Just your same old dad. The old safe shoe.
Feeling sad for she who must now bleed in secret, alone.
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