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through your eye, the blatocyst is nothing more
no more than you were at my bedside when i was dying
charcoal deep in lonliness defeated by my own family
cashing out when annie's singing, holding court for garage sale queen
flying my name, saluting me, waving like we were prom queens together
the fair was lovely, the ducks waddling nonchalant
happy padding there, before clock's hit noon
all too soon, never married, all too soon, money gone, all too soon,
tooth fairy tired of paying for the tooth that broke
this tooth fairy insures baby teeth alone, but now you've grown
never matter we hold your wings
like a waterskipper trying to skate tethered
watching as your head is back and forth from the trying to break free
blew bubbles, my cheapest thrill
now a blatocyst sits by the windowsill alone, while i was dying
he was dead, no one cared to believe
the pain isn't in my head but here, in my body, and now here,
feel my heart
no one to call from the hospital bed but the same mother
who told others i was manipulating and making wolf cries to help
who left me in jail, nodding her head and pretending to be dismayed
promised to pay for a lawyer for my baby and left the note on the door
be back soon
when?
when the moon is the sun? when the earth is deflated, when the door is
corroded and broken and split for wood in a poor man's fire?
all the photos on the wall of strangers from antique stores
one has my ear, says my mother. no photos of children on the wall, her
own flesh and blood, but an antique portrait of a total stranger who,
mother thinks,
"has my ear" the one sticks out more than the other
went an entire life hiding that ear with her hair, never tucking the hair
behind it.
tried laser surgery, bawled as i consoled her, wondering myself if she had
just melted like the witch of the west
then it was plastic surgery, the surgery name i like best, "plastic" says so much
telling me i should be married
family discussing my odds if i were to have breast enhancement
at the dinner table
little, watching the steel pot set to the side,
thinking it looked ugly and getting up to put the food in pretty containers
mother so angry,
"it just creates more dishes to wash!"
who cared--i was the one always washing the dishes
just wanted something beautiful on the tablecloth
picked flowers for the centerpiece, which were moved
being in the way
my baby boy, similarly displaced from my arms
888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888
the only thing beautiful in my life
ripped from me and broken by my own family's hands
like a porcelain swan cast to the ground
promises
i was six, never forgot the fight, thought
divorce might be that night
went into the bedroom after daddy had left
mother picking up pieces of a porcelain swan
a gift from their wedding
i helped, my tiny fingers capturing the fragments
it was mine to keep from that day
i glued it together, it held my earrings
touches of gilt painted on the beak
i sat with my mother as she cried
tears breaking through her fingers
no one sat next to me when it was my turn
to cry
standing at the edge, waiting for a crane
baby for sale, blatocyst for remembrance
all of these hands mocking God
making talking faces like pac man munchers
talking, talking, purple tulips in a garden
heads together, bobbing in the wind
small toad on the tree coming down
watching carefully
the group of tulips talking
eyes darting to the curtain and the eyelace
a bench where i was weeping
mineral baths for the garden ants
spotted green and brown toad
quietly moving out of sight
there were swans in the water at the house where i was young
a teenager, two swans and then there was none
i believe mother bought them
one disappeared, by a wild animal
and the other agitated until the water
curdled. water was let from the dam but not enough
foam and wing and crying heard echoes in the valley
arabians peering over the stall to find the noisemaker
cows on the road, i was calling them in
to the side of the road, with a stick,
herding the animals back into pasture
all by myself, so proud
the other swan died of love
until i had moved out of the house i kept
the porcelain swan, one day noticing how
cheap it looked and broken
it fell again and i swept the pieces into the trash
against the steel i broke my wings
from the water to the well
and climbing out, clipped myself
small toad on the ground beside me, blinking
you have so much farther to go
rolled the kitten into a cozy shawl and carried her
with me on a hike in the high hills
knew i was having babies someday
loved every one i saw
but my own, was my gift from God
in the thicket, high with burrs and thorns
he was born to me
dogs and coyote, fox and wolves trying to get in
shivering naked i defended him
mother was hours away having the couch reupholstered
in an english country-cottage rose tapestry
begged for help for one day
wires coming from me, bones broken, devastated
by the loss of my voice in that room
torn by ruthless hands which then tried to take my baby
kept myself close, in that room with this babe
mother pushing my son's hand away
from the dog because her dog was jealous.
mother wanted photos taken of her and her shitzu,
held my son awkwardly, like he was an oversized turkey or ham
she didn't want to bring too close to her chest
her face isn't melting anymore. that healed up,
and plastics were next
after which, i can only imagine oils and pastilles once
the cast has set
my grandmother gave me an antique doll, from her childhood
i brought it home and my mother felt bad, depressed
jealous Granny had given the doll to me. my mother said
i didn't know how to care for things, and she'd always liked that doll.
i was 10 years old, and feeling sorry for my mother,
i gave her my only doll, and the only gift i had been given by Granny.
"here, you can have it," i offered and stretched out my hand.
"are you sure?" I told her, "You can have it for alittle while but when I want it back, just give it back to me."
never got that doll back. the one with the straw hat, porcelain head and blinking
eyes, with the summer dress tied in the back.
"do you want to hold him?" i asked, feeling bad that my mother didn't even want
to hold her grandson. she gave him back to me then. never was i questioned about
my parenting. i was only told i should go to church,
that maybe some divorced or widowed man might marry me,
that my son needed to know "his heavenly father".
i would tell my father all the wonderful things my son was doing
and instead i got, "are you teaching him how to pray? does he know his
heavenly father?" my son was 1 year old. Such criticism and assumption
that my son didn't know how to pray or i never prayed with him or over him.
never could control me, lost control,
so tried to control me through my son,
angry with me for reporting those in the family who
fought with their hands. no one dared bring out
the family drama, until i came to town, and shocked
by the cage fights in my own family i asked some questions
put the food in pretty containers again, for Granny, and
served grandpa his dinner on a t.v. tray.
Granny claiming someone needs to take care of me
praying for "a man to take care of you" as if i
were in need of a convalescent home prairie companion
"you need to rest" she said, and said my health was not
strong enough for having children. she felt firmly i should not
have any children, telling me how it ruined her body and equillibrium
i always knew i wanted children, and i was happy from the moment
i learned i was pregnant with this one.
didn't have any regrets. fully prepared, having been a nanny for most
of my life. i knew what to expect and was excited, but
we were in the rose garden, playing with the goldfish in the pool
toad on the wall, noticing the eyes peeping through the branches
fishing with the father on the rocks, in my pregnancy, sun on my back
my swimsuit bottoms said "choice". i chose my baby, when i found out he
had chosen me. yes! i accept! my smile breaking over the stick i kept
never looked back
until now, when i've known the wolves were at the gate and hungry.
i've known they hated me and needed me to prove to themselves they were alive
to make me suffer for being happy when i shouldn't be
they told me not to be, and i was happy anyway.
calling for help, mother's swinging on a porchswing, humming and reading Equestrian
or Country Living. father's trying out his new tractor, gone from white collar to
working the land. cows in the pasture, another pasture now, and i'm not
chasing them. i tend to one small boy, with all my heart and delight,
fight for him and his rights, and my rights
doctors praying guardianship will never go to me so they will avoid lawsuit for my son's damages from childbirth. Wenatchee hastening things along but stalling on evertything that has to do with me.
breaking the bond like breaking a piece of toast in two.
Watching my son break down to nothing,harming himself, agnozing and crying and acting out at night, screaming for mama, breaking him down
to accept his fate. they force him to accept and bond to his captors because he has
no one else to hold to and was not given a choice. He was forced into captivity and
refused to see his own mother and then to hear her voice
i remember my mother's voice on the telephone before the blood transfusion,
thinking I was going to be "healed" and not need one.
She gambles with life. gambles not just with her own life,
but my life, and my son's life.
throws up a coin of prayer, and hopes it lands on the right side.
Odds are 50/50. lottery is cheaper than paying for a lawyer.
they just want to pull down the lotto levers, and see what kinds of fruit comes up.
Pull the lever and see what they get out of bingo.
Winning a prize from the church for "Best Prayer Warrior" which means???
how many people they healed? or saved? or killed?
This one, was nothing more than a blatocyst dying by the windowsill.
my baby boy is nothng more than a pet they think will be happy in any "good home"
forgetting, this is my child and my life and that they know I've done nothing to harm my son, ever. My mother and father know I am a good mother and they're only concern is that they would like me to be "nicer" to others, including them. They think it's wrong for me be an activist and a mother and think I should quit doing this if I'm a real mom. After constant disappointment by my mother and father
and after insulting them to help them realize what they've done isn't okay, they want a way to get their own name back. If it means allowing their daughter to be slandered so they can claim she's not right, they'll do it.
so i see my mother, holding onto the doll I gave her, out of pity,
when I was girl, out of sensitivity for her feelings.
That doll was never given back to me.
I wondered why there were no photos of the kids or family on the wall, and they
just didn't fit the decor. Instead, we have antique portraits of people we don't even know on our walls.
maybe my mother wants to be important.
i found a diary of her great-great-grandmother when i was a little girl
and it read: shot and killed 2 rabbit today. tomorrow getting 5 lbs of sugar and wagon breaking down. shot and killed 5 rabbit today. It was a quaint itinerary and journal and I laughed it sounded like the elmer fudd diary. after that, the diary disappeared and we didn't know where it went. Mother seemed embarrassed.willing to
throw away or hide anything about the family she felt could be embarrassing, which has included me.
one day, side by side, perfecting the prom queen wave and social niceties, and the next day, telling me to leave the food in the ugly pots and if I didn't like it, I could cook my own meals. Bang! goes the pot onto the table. Bang! goes another pan with an ugly lid. Ketchup and mustard from big bottles. silverware mismatched.
My flower bouquet was too tall to talk over, and in the way. It was very pretty but impractical.
Better to have a swan in a grave than shattered. Better to have a baby in a church with smacking hands and godspeak,,,the baby is, to my mothers way of thinking, a beautiful but impractical centerpiece. My baby is all i can see, through all these shadows and figures around me, my boys eyes and smiles and his need for me is that I see. I will send him out on a moses boat, to escape the reeds, to sail to safety and I will pick him up and keep for me his every scent and memory. Tulips nodding stay busy, toad is crawling closer to me...who could you be? you see it all so well, who are you? I sit on the edge with my feet in the water, see my ceramic doll hung by a noose in the willow tree, and the porcelain swan is sinking from it's own weight. tangled in the moss and swamp, everything got stuck.
they will fight God and his will. God's will was that this boy was born to me. God'd will is that I am his mother. I did nothing to harm him. the accusations are that I offended adults,not my son. Adults don't appreciate me and take my son from me to punish me for things I've said. But God did not give my son to them. I did nothing to break the will of God in joining my son to me. God chose me and I didn't have to even become pregnant but was and I was ready for it. God knows how I care for my own baby, better than most mothers. God knows this and He has not cut me off or cut off my rights...God watches like a quiet toad on the side, as other play God in his abscence. They claim to be all-knowing when they know nothing. They usurp the will of God for their own means, and do what they can to permanantly "Teach her" a lesson, to punish me for my free speech. They knew they have no one to stop them
unless someone from another country jumps out and extends a hand to save us.

My mother melting, healing, melting still, clinging to her dolly and her antique portraits of strangers, and her shitzu, discarding her grandson like trash and breaking a promises the way a swan came crashing to the floor. I picked up the pieces of her wedding gift. She picks apart my gift from God, jealous and insecure as always, happy to claim I"m not good enough, thinking her praying has erradicated the steel flint.

Happy to take my baby, after generational fights in the family, those who assaulted me and hurt me, happy to take the baby to prove there isn't anything wrong with THEM and that it was me. They have their own families, but it's not enough. They want revenge and prove this as they stand by to do everything it takes to take my son away. From the start, refusing to let my son see photos of me, from the start working to break his bond with me. Intentionally trying to disrupt my son's bond with me, telling me to be evaluated a crazy so they have even better grounds for taking him from me permanently. They know this and the state knows this. The are two swans, a black swan and a white swan, fight to the death, agitated .