Part Deux
No John of God
By khf
Damn it!
I do not know what a Zombie Apocalypse is
Though, it can’t be worse,
than spotting him--
a bloated “Lance Armstrong”--
lugging age and tonnage--
pedaling down the street
mere seconds before he
invites himself--
all sweat and Spandex--
to wheel into our driveway
Dismount
Strut to the front door
and jab the doorbell
Apparently…to summon the maid
At the outset
I tell you:
Panic is not pretty
or civil
Rather a masked beast
of unfavor
with rights of first refusal
So…in the breaths between seeing and comprehending
Between “No John of God” stabbing the doorbell
twisting the doorknob
angling to burst in--
as a fun surprise, I suppose--
and peering
hand-to-brow
into the curtainless windows
my skin crawls
Climbs upward
in defense
and mounts a full-blown temper tantrum--
a whirling dervish of
panicked bones and flustered Birkenstocks
I’ve borne shameful witness
to women
in the throes of mysterious flames
Aunt Dot serving a platter of cookies--
such a benign task--
crashing down into waves
of guttural sobs
Pulled underwater by unseen monsters
inhabiting her small frame
Us gathered at her table…stunned
Suddenly battered
with bricks of hard, chunky grief
My mother
in the middle of my kitchen
Feral.
Keening.
Clawing at a ghost she alone can see--
an unnatural composite
long ago
forced inside her natural, young body--
exploding
the quite of an early spring evening
“No John of God”
now
at the side door
thumping
like I hadn’t heard him already
at the front door
Because I must be napping
Asleep on my one good ear
Bum ears—that’s predator logic
Since who would reject a fine visit
from such a fine gentleman
I watch him
in the backyard
sucking on the garden hose
feet away
from the stairs
leading to the slider
The slider is unlocked.
The dog is dead.
No barriers exist.
Only minutes stand between me
and “No John of God”
entering this house
standing by the fireplace
expecting…what?
iced tea and finger sandwiches
pretzels and beer
a fat chicken bone to gnaw on
Maybe a redo of Christmas Breast-Gate
where once again I get to hear
his low breathy voice
whirl around my brain like a buzz saw
and that darn-cute-hairy-monkey claw
targeting me
Maybe he wants me to run away with him
Live in his basement apartment
Why didn’t I ever think
of using rusted refrigerators
as closets
to store junk dragged in from the landfill?
And those broken-down stoves?
I agree…
great for storing old, ratty clothes
that you never bothered to wash
along with your hair…
How many years has it been?
That’s quite an oil slick on your head there
I know…I know…
Shampoo is expensive
So is water
A good, once-a-week toilet flush--
that’s what I’m looking forward to--
the weekly flush
Never mind…don’t bother
I’m inventive
I’ll just pee in the woods
and bag a squirrel while I’m at it
I re-state:
Panic is not pretty
and this is crazy town
A rollercoaster spin
through layers and layers
of trauma
decades old
And I’m ratcheting up
as the seconds tick down
to the clomp of his cleats
on the wooden steps
that lead to the…
Wait a minute
something is happening here
A glow of calm
Smooth, silky cashmere
flows down
A voice crystal-ice clear
whispers
Just leave
In the whirlwind of zombie battling
and quaking sandals
I hadn’t even thought of that
Just leave
How perfect
How ingenious
That’s what I’ll do
That’s exactly what I’ll do
So it is.
Gather my purse
Car keys
Grab the essential bag of Hershey Kisses
Walk softly--
but quickly--
through the kitchen
casting no shadow
Into the laundry room
Out into the garage
Slip quietly behind the wheel
Calmly ignite all switches--
a damsel not in distress--
and off I go
I return home
at the edge of twilight
Nerve-ways dialed down to frayed
The afternoon bleached
of its dregs
No hint, sign or suggestion
of “No John of God’s” presence
in the driveway
by the doors
at the windows…or anywhere
Years ago a friend came out to me
I’ve know all along
How? She asked
By what you didn’t say
Ultimately
it is what’s missing
that exposes
all I need to know
about “No John of God”
And in the end
an action of self-protection--
however unhinged it appears--
is
at it’s core--
down where the soul resides--
an act of
profound self-love
to be
celebrated applauded respected
with
sacred joy
It is resplendent evidence
of the power
living within
khf/12.2.22
No John of God
By khf
Damn it!
I do not know what a Zombie Apocalypse is
Though, it can’t be worse,
than spotting him--
a bloated “Lance Armstrong”--
lugging age and tonnage--
pedaling down the street
mere seconds before he
invites himself--
all sweat and Spandex--
to wheel into our driveway
Dismount
Strut to the front door
and jab the doorbell
Apparently…to summon the maid
At the outset
I tell you:
Panic is not pretty
or civil
Rather a masked beast
of unfavor
with rights of first refusal
So…in the breaths between seeing and comprehending
Between “No John of God” stabbing the doorbell
twisting the doorknob
angling to burst in--
as a fun surprise, I suppose--
and peering
hand-to-brow
into the curtainless windows
my skin crawls
Climbs upward
in defense
and mounts a full-blown temper tantrum--
a whirling dervish of
panicked bones and flustered Birkenstocks
I’ve borne shameful witness
to women
in the throes of mysterious flames
Aunt Dot serving a platter of cookies--
such a benign task--
crashing down into waves
of guttural sobs
Pulled underwater by unseen monsters
inhabiting her small frame
Us gathered at her table…stunned
Suddenly battered
with bricks of hard, chunky grief
My mother
in the middle of my kitchen
Feral.
Keening.
Clawing at a ghost she alone can see--
an unnatural composite
long ago
forced inside her natural, young body--
exploding
the quite of an early spring evening
“No John of God”
now
at the side door
thumping
like I hadn’t heard him already
at the front door
Because I must be napping
Asleep on my one good ear
Bum ears—that’s predator logic
Since who would reject a fine visit
from such a fine gentleman
I watch him
in the backyard
sucking on the garden hose
feet away
from the stairs
leading to the slider
The slider is unlocked.
The dog is dead.
No barriers exist.
Only minutes stand between me
and “No John of God”
entering this house
standing by the fireplace
expecting…what?
iced tea and finger sandwiches
pretzels and beer
a fat chicken bone to gnaw on
Maybe a redo of Christmas Breast-Gate
where once again I get to hear
his low breathy voice
whirl around my brain like a buzz saw
and that darn-cute-hairy-monkey claw
targeting me
Maybe he wants me to run away with him
Live in his basement apartment
Why didn’t I ever think
of using rusted refrigerators
as closets
to store junk dragged in from the landfill?
And those broken-down stoves?
I agree…
great for storing old, ratty clothes
that you never bothered to wash
along with your hair…
How many years has it been?
That’s quite an oil slick on your head there
I know…I know…
Shampoo is expensive
So is water
A good, once-a-week toilet flush--
that’s what I’m looking forward to--
the weekly flush
Never mind…don’t bother
I’m inventive
I’ll just pee in the woods
and bag a squirrel while I’m at it
I re-state:
Panic is not pretty
and this is crazy town
A rollercoaster spin
through layers and layers
of trauma
decades old
And I’m ratcheting up
as the seconds tick down
to the clomp of his cleats
on the wooden steps
that lead to the…
Wait a minute
something is happening here
A glow of calm
Smooth, silky cashmere
flows down
A voice crystal-ice clear
whispers
Just leave
In the whirlwind of zombie battling
and quaking sandals
I hadn’t even thought of that
Just leave
How perfect
How ingenious
That’s what I’ll do
That’s exactly what I’ll do
So it is.
Gather my purse
Car keys
Grab the essential bag of Hershey Kisses
Walk softly--
but quickly--
through the kitchen
casting no shadow
Into the laundry room
Out into the garage
Slip quietly behind the wheel
Calmly ignite all switches--
a damsel not in distress--
and off I go
I return home
at the edge of twilight
Nerve-ways dialed down to frayed
The afternoon bleached
of its dregs
No hint, sign or suggestion
of “No John of God’s” presence
in the driveway
by the doors
at the windows…or anywhere
Years ago a friend came out to me
I’ve know all along
How? She asked
By what you didn’t say
Ultimately
it is what’s missing
that exposes
all I need to know
about “No John of God”
And in the end
an action of self-protection--
however unhinged it appears--
is
at it’s core--
down where the soul resides--
an act of
profound self-love
to be
celebrated applauded respected
with
sacred joy
It is resplendent evidence
of the power
living within
khf/12.2.22