Poetry: "2013"

 Note: This was supposed to be a post and doesn't follow any of my usual rules for writing decent poetry, it's just an emotional mindspill and not intended to utilize imagery or anything remotely artistic. It's a diary entry that was easier to write in poem form, and that's all.

2013

Today I'm thinking

About the end of the world

2012, and all that.

Yeah, nothing happened--

The year ended,

Christmas cheers said as best we could

While my brother lie in bed

Head bandaged

And we didn't know

If he would ever be the same again

As he lay in recovery,

Our rabbit died, ten years of companionship

Became a pile of dusty shavings, ash

Gone out with the garbage

And seen again only

By the body swerving

To move around a cage no longer there

Goodbye, little friend.

As my brother suffered,

Struggled with life and death

Physically, and metaphorically

Someone decided it was okay to turn a corner

Near the end of our street

At twice the speed

You should

There went Daddy's nice shiny

Brand new car, ebony flecks

Of paint and metal

Bursting under the sun

Like confetti

And my father's speech slurred and his vision blurred

And nobody knew why until they saw

The scans of blood on his brain

Now he lie in recovery too,

And there was no money, no sick leave

No security, no, he'd never been that wise

Or any kind of wise at all

In 2012 we were going to finally

Move out to the country,

My waking dream since I was tall enough

To see out the car window and know there were trees,

Seas and seas of trees,

Somewhere out there

Now that was taken away, too

I'd quit my job in the city for it

I was left with nothing

But poverty

Real poverty,

Not you the kind where you shop

At Walmart

And can't afford the latest xBox games

And think all your friends

Look cooler than you do

The kind of poverty

That becomes your daily companion

Braying hunger and worry and uncertainty and

Fearing to touch anything precious to you

Because if it breaks, it's gone

And if it doesn't break

You'll probably have to sell it

The kind of poverty that eats at your dreams

Like it eats at your body

And convinces you it's pointless

Everything's pointless

There is only suffering

And bracing

Cowering

Frozen with rage as much as fear--

A burnt out tree-trunk

Standing jagged against the wind

Yes, we made it to 2013

There was no bang

But I think I heard

A whimper.