I am from...2
Saturday, March 1, 2008 at 11:41AM 
I am from the third seat of the aqua blue station wagon,
from Plymouth and Dodge,
from fights about whose turn it is,
and whether that was really a license plate from Alabama.
I am from the long, low front porch, screened, a cool cement floor
and the glider with a tin-chime in its swing.
I am from the thorny sweetheart rose outside bedroom windows left open,
from oleanders on the highway median,
a low hurricane sky stretched out flat as an ironed sheet over the coastal plain.
From the Hill Country, too, with its false horizons and blanket of cedar pollen come December.
I am from hardscrabble people who left and kept leaving, some coming back this way
and beauties with thin noses,
from Rosemary who started out Rowena and sang opera while doing the dishes, from three generations of James Lee
and three doctor Shipps.
I am from the ones who take to their rooms and never come down
from one who walked in front of a train.
And from others who don’t. Aunt Nan and Aunt Jack and Aunt Judy and Ruth, the dancer
From those who shall sit at the table until everyone is finished
and those who would never put to pen anything too intimate.
I am from Catholics turned Methodists turned Presbyterians,
the chosen who can’t sing worth a,
well where I’m from, we don’t curse, that’s for sure.
I'm from big oil city out on the edges where young families survive doctoral tyrants and colicky babies,
from meatloaf and pot roast, and tomatoes picked just before supper.
From the buzz of story that seeps under the door at night,
Texas Rangers and buggy rides,
droughts and droughts and droughts,
and the flashflood that washed away Uncle Ray’s kin,
farms lost and found,
fortunes ebbed and flowed,
French poodles and Neiman Marcus hats
and the occasional steer brought to market.
I am from thick scrapbooks on the bottom shelf,
baby books 1,2,3,4,
cardboard boxes stacked in sheds,
regrettably dusty shelves waiting for spring cleaning in a 4-square house on a few creek-navigated acres.
From people in photos with names carefully noted on the back,
living tangled tight in as many spider webs as my heart can spin.
Susie Monday
A few more found across the globe. Imagine that time travel between us seems interestingly similar although we are far spread globally. I think many of us must be around the same age...
Reader Comments (9)
Stunningly beautiful. I LOVE IT! You have inspired me to write one. I just shared this with several of my writer friends and challenged them to join me. Thank you for sharing your vast talent and your story with us.
Jennifer
I particularly enjoyed this piece of writing.
Thank you for sharing - it is in my file of writings by others that impacted me at the core when first read. Thank you....
Kristin
Karine
Thanks for the comment on the CYBER FYBER site. I really look forward to seeing "Home". Have a great time in Italy. I've only been to Lucca once but loved every moment there!
Susan
Thank you for the link to my poem. I did it over two years ago as the date on my blog will attest. It's wonderful to see this project doing the rounds again even bigger this time.