burnt toast at nautilus teachings




memories are
like burnt toast
you lose track of time
they pop up
and leave a lingering
you can open a window
light a candle
spray lysol or febreeze
you can even cook something
but that strong crispy
‘oops i overdid it’ smell
just won’t go away,
it takes time.
if you have ever
thrown a pot and dented
your fridge,
slammed a door
and cracked the glass
hit a wall
leaving an indentation
if you have ever
spilled red wine
leaving behind a stain
cut yourself leaving a scar
you know exactly what
i mean…
our history
is locked up tight
sealed inside of us
we can close and lock the doors
we can pretend things never happened
we can even forgive and move on…
then one day the wind blows
from a different direction
your stomach feels off
and those darn memories
flood every inch of you…

My mother was ruled by my father
But her hands never stopped loving,
Her hands never ceased baking home made goodies,
Her eyes never stopped sparkling
Her laugh never dulled

She listened
She obeyed
And she
Not from the family
But from life

Her silence was cradled
In golden rays of love
It was wrapped around my body
It was in her hair each time the wind blew it
And in every stitch sewn or knit by her hands

She was told to stay home
Yet she secretly had a job
She was den mother to many
Brownie leader to none
She ran concession stands at the ball games
ran the PTA
taught sunday school
and volunteered whenever asked…

Testosterone ran deep in my family
4 men in total
Ruled my mother
And I was the one
To catch her tears
And hold her
While we swung on the porch

Patching clothes
Darning socks
there was no money for new ones
My mother traded work for the boys new clothes
I wore my cousins Hand me downs
and my beautiful aunt made sure
mom had gorgeous clothes

No diamonds
Or real pears
Avon jewelry was her “best”
Inking up the worn leather on her shoes
To last, just one more year….
Or two…

My mother was ruled by my father
As pretty and loving as she was
I never learned
To stand up for myself
Fight for anything
Or believe I was good enough

After grandma died when i was little
My grandfather dated several
blinged out woman
With rings upon every finger
Short skirts
Painted on makeup
Ruby red lips
Long nails
Stiff hair
Big boobs
Loud mouths
It lasted only a few years
And then he married #2
Who cleared her throat all the time
Had glasses
Was short,
laughed like a hyena
And my mother disliked her…
My mother died when she was 55.
My father first spent a year with God
Then he dated a few
For a little while
Then he married
Dragon lady
She was gruff,
Smoked when she drank
And kicked my dad in the balls
When needed…
when i turned 50
5 years til my impending death so it shall seem
I was determined to beat it,
and so far,
so good,
‘knock on wood!’
d already knows
if he passes before me
I will then
Become a
Lipstick lesbian
and open a dog swim park
in my back yard…
i am through with men
after d,
he ruined me-
in the best of ways…
what happens if i die first?
i am not even going to
open that book
because i believe in spirits
and if you have ever
seen the movies,
Ghosts pf Girlfriends Past,
where while attending his brother’s wedding,
a serial womanizer is haunted by
the ghosts of his past girlfriends.
or Over her dead body,
where a ghost tries to sabotage
her former boyfriend’s current relationship with a psychic
then i suggest you do
and prepare to giggle…
i will never
ever leave
my stewie alone…
i will be that
burnt toast scent
he just can’t seem
to stop inhaling!