Shades of Ron Defer (Revisited)

Shades of Ron Defer (Revisited)
by Halifax
In my nights of picturing Mother barren
there creeps a cloud into the frame,
a taunting whispered unwanted name.
Thousands of words in each I own of her.
Words enough I have never want for finding.
His name is not relevant to the story I am told.
The scrapbook shows a white sateen dress,
a tall cake for taking the wives communion,
distanced red eyes in a crowd blurring into brown,
full cups and gaping plates waiting in line for the picture,
Centered consuming the first piece is our father
and his bride’s patient face wearing her share unashamed.
Flip through to the first two siblings buried face deep
and tousled after a bath together tugging at her robe.
We were stealing the strength she wore.
Her eyes look heavy but tender in terry-cloth.
The photographer’s shadow pop flashed from her vanity.
It stood mirrored on the wall behind her.
The plastic sheet turns to show two more in tow.
Totaled four for now her children look to her.
An orange sun season with Polaroid burn
shows two full tables sharing her communion again.
The host sits displayed honey-glazed and transfigured.
Emptied plates she’ll baptize later litter the scene.
Seen through the pages is testament of a sacrifice.
Alone, she’d named it and called it out in anger,
“Working my fingers down to the fucking bone!”
and showed us her hand as proof it was true.
Kissing her cheek in the shot is I in stripes and plaid.
My sisters wear bright cotton, posing with faked smiles.
Hearing a name from a time when she was not my savior
unsettles my tight box of witness pictures.
The wise shades of black and whites omit him.
Pretty scenes composed to tell of purity and poise
defer for now, though the thought pries.
I have held the story true too long to make corrections.

0 thoughts on “Shades of Ron Defer (Revisited)

  1. Nice revisionista! You have more balls than i do…i could never write true confessional poetry. The story told thru a scrapbook/photos is imaginative touch. I still like the original “Ghosts” poem but “Shades” is inner-expansion of.
    “Hearing a name from a time when she was not my savior unsettles my tight box of witness pictures. The wise shades of black and whites omit him.”…just one line i liked…and…”Emptied plates she’ll baptize later litter the scene.”
    Sounds too as if poem provided good therapeutic value. ? Just one way to tackle our anxieties/fears/emptiness head on, eh?

  2. I am going through a very selfish mental life right now. I am constantly finding my mind revisiting early memories and seeing connections and resonance with past actions. It has been annoying me long enough. I decided that the only way to exorcise the monkey picking sticky fingers at my hippocampus is to throw it down in words and leave it twitching to infest some other persons mind.
    I hope it likes your mind better and stays there. Advisory: If you take its toys away it gets really pissed. Don’t let it stay up too late or it will wake up at the same time as always but damn is it cranky.

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