Posted in Living, Poetry

National Poetry Writing Month #27


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PATTERNS

Like the squared-off lines chalked
on a hot sidewalk, any blistery afternoon
when you are eight and school
is out for the summer,

your mother just inside, or off
in some faraway place full of people
you hope she does not like better,
working in either case, her limp hair
clinging to her sweaty brow
in curly waves.

Like the jolt of concrete in your ankles,
the dream of ice cream bouncing in your head
along with the quarters squirreled away
in your pocket, the chocolate cream smooth
on your tongue, pushing away more
than the hole in your belly.

On the radio, around the television each night,
the uncontrollable filters into the living room,
layering the rag rugs and shag carpets
with guns, bombs, the threat of war,
flood, feast, famine, the round stomachs
of children with eyes like yours
but vacant and cold.

The only thing new is your own hand
touching the hot stove, drawing back
in hurt wonder, glancing to the knowing eyes
of the one whose arms you run to,
she who has skipped her own chalked patterns,
licked vanilla as it dribbled down
its sugary cone.

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Ramona Levacy
April 27, 2013

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Author:

I am a 40-something Texan with a feisty cat and a supportive husband of 20 years. With a Master's degree in English with an emphasis on creative writing, I have taught creative writing at Texas Tech, won awards for my writing and been blessed to be mentored by Horn Professor and poet Dr. Walt McDonald. I earn a living by helping my husband's family run a health food store, but my avocation is writing. I hope you enjoy reading about some of my triumphs and tragedies as I continue to work on figuring out what life is all about and on growing my ability to share my writing. May your own journey be a blessed one.

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