Val Morehouse Poems
|82.||Summer Twilight (Haiku)||11/18/2007|
|88.||Sometimes I Feel Like A Motherless Child||11/14/2009|
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Sometimes I Feel Like A Motherless Child
____version from a traditional slave spiritual,
Shaking with the fierce fright of loneliness
at 2 a.m. Staccato cries rise and flock like night
birds from your swathed blanket.
I drift to your crib still half-wrapped in a nightgown
of sleep. Again I will bend and lift you against my heart.
Wrapped together, we fold into the old wooden rocker,
the one with that special creak in its rock,
adding its moving downbeat to my drumming heart.
In sympathy my own voice breathes out notes,
New city. No job. No apartment.
Behold the unemployed,
plastic slicker dripping like a lab specimen
ready for formaldehyde;
or a turkey in cold storage.
All bad judgment and worse luck,
will my number ever turn up?
Moving in lines toward desks