Page Twenty-two
mon 30 june 2008 Greenfield
so, Thread Two:
Number 23
Beltaine. Mayday in cold, black
space.
Mayday without you –
how can that be.
Beltaine was always ours,
always a night and a day
I went on about.
We had our tiny fires,
ribbons, flowers,
our heathen, pagan songs.
As a family
we sang to the season
of leafing and sprouting,
of earth opening eyelids one time more.
Mayday can’t come
without a twirly skirt
to dance in.
Can’t come
in a moonless, sunless,
frigid space.
Can’t come, cannot exist in any space
without you.
Thread two: the poems in the order written, which is not the order I’d use if I were paper-publishing them.
Thread three: the little bill stories that my friend likes to find, like easter eggs.
Thread four: yes, there may be a fourth one coming. The story of how maybe I am part of something I never consented to be part of. More violation of rights, and, as usual, no money for a lawyer. slán leat is slán agat.
Update 7 Oct 2009: And now there’s been a second Mayday without my animals and my own life, even without an apartment still. And a second Memorial Day, and so on. And the grief goes on, and the post-traumatic stress symptoms go on and on and get worse, and the Asperger’s symptoms get worse. So it goes.
