December, 1997
Gravity
Every time you move a bone pops out of place
Every lie you've ever told is scratched across your face
You're growing old and closer to the groundMother has forgotten how to say your name
All your children send you postcards sputtering with blame
You're growing old and closer to the groundStones can speak and say your bones are far too soft
Birds can fly but you know why they won't be long aloft
You're growing old and closer to the groundFaces fade like light and slowly skulls emerge
Delicacy fails and wails before the final surge
You're growing old and closer to the ground
WomenThey're only people, and won't levitate your heart.
Give that up. Stop driving by her house.
Mail your letters or else don't write them at all.
You thought you could sip peace from a bra cup?
Sex just fucks with your head, mostly.They're not all out to get married.
Some are just all out.
Some smoke and drink and spit in the street,
others go to church in floral gowns.
Virgins pass exotic dancers on the street every day
and I defy you to tell me the difference.
Never mind the one you want to see.Half the human race,
the half that does the dirty work.
Who taught you to wipe your ass?
Jewish Mother
Madison Avenue
marble Mary
mother of us all
sits on her pedestal
palms on knees
eyes rolled shyward
as if to say:
"What am I gonna' do with you kids?
Copyright © Jason Wilkins
All rights reserved.Jason Wilkins is a journalist and poet who lives in Portland's Parkside neighborhood.