I am honored to be featured on braveandrecklessblog.com

At the kitchen table, My mother and I sat. Nothing new to discuss Silence covered us. Sometimes we glanced at each other. Mostly, we stared ahead Or …
Misty Remains – Annette Kalandros
I am honored to be featured on braveandrecklessblog.com
At the kitchen table, My mother and I sat. Nothing new to discuss Silence covered us. Sometimes we glanced at each other. Mostly, we stared ahead Or …
Misty Remains – Annette Kalandros
I am honored to be featured on braveandrecklessblog.com
The tinge of sadness in your words
Told me you had stolenthese words
From another to whom you had
Given them then turned and gifted them
To me, and I—I pretended you had
Freshly written such lovely words for me,
Letting the ink of your stolen words
Blanket me, comfort me with something
I needed to feel— if only for a time—
The street huckster wraps her wares
In three day old newspapers to cushion
Them from breakage
And once home, I peeled the molding
Paper off my skin to find it stained
With the cheap ink of your stolen words
Soap, hot water, and good scrubbing
Wore all the stains away.
My skin refreshed and oiled,
I sigh heavily with pitynow
For you mustnot feel
Anything much that is real
Who must constantly steal
And steal away again your now
Cheapened wordsto give to one
And then another and…
View original post 98 more words
I have heard praises of all this autumnbling Yes, it is a feast of color, true. Yet, it seems this forest floor Littered with the wings Of carrion …
Autumnblings – Annette Kalandros
I’m honored to be featured on Braveandrecklessblog.com
The jigsaw puzzle of mercy
fell to pieces today.
The dogs saw it crumble,
alerting me before I could
gather, prepare, ready–
anything—
For this, this seeming simple thing.
The dogs ran, back hair bristled—
I ran after,
yelling, yanked their collars—
the dogs listened, stood back, panting.
All the construction of houses around us stopped
it seemed for a moment—
for a moment only us—
the four of us—
my two dogs, one on each side of me,
standing back, as they’d been told,
me, and the small bird now in my hands.
I had not stopped to grab anything—
no gloves, no towel—
had not thought of viruses, bacteria—
this bird was still alive—
limp, though nothing seemed broken,
yet its eyes wild.
I held it lightly,
thinking it stunned
it would surely fly off—
just stunned is all–I thought—
just a moment,
give it a moment, it would fly.
It had to fly.
By God, this ordinary grayish brown bird,
shaking, breathing hard in my hands, had to fly.
The bird closed its eyes—
It would not fly—
I knew it then—
I would have to gift it– mercy,
and so did what needed done—
Broke its neck in two.
No. No. It doesn’t help to know
I put an end to its suffering.
But I learned mercy makes for easy talk,
yet it is a suffering thing to do.
I am honored to be featured on BraveandRecklessblog.com
I entered life an accidental tourist.
My mother’s body served an eviction notice,
But I ignored it and burrowed deeper
Into placental warmth.
My twin, however, weaker,
Entered the world a clotted, bloody,
Gelatinous mess on the white tile
Of a bathroom floor.
The doctor told the man,
Who wasn’t really my father
But thought himself to be,
There was still a heartbeat,
Still a baby left.
I felt the absence of my twin,
the lack of another’s heart
beating a rhythm to match my own,
racing toward emergence, light, life, breath.
A ghost-like memory I carried with me
Always– Even when I, who survived
By claiming squatter’s right
To my mother’s uterus
As it tried to evict me
And who had never been told
Of my twin’s existence, would
Turn in childhood play and talk
To my twin sister.
My mother asking to whom I talked
And I answering—My…
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