THANK YOU FOR LEAVING ME
Thank you for leaving me. It made me feel
so light and care free. Free to manage
the ghetto house with leaking plumbing
and falling-in floors over which our two
babies crawled, still on all fours. Thank you
for stopping to say goodbye and for
the pretty wreath tossed of parting words:
we had some good times. Thank you for
ignoring my cries for help. I know
you were busy, caught in the love sack
of I’ll never be back. Thank you for
the few dollars sent to pay the rent,
and lest I forget the divorce, thank you
for the papers delivered at work. Thank
you for the last picture I carry of you:
you in the red velvet chair, one ankle
crossed on the opposite knee, shaking out
the newspaper thoughtfully, as I groveled
at your feet; hands and knees on the floor,
sobbing and begging you not to go.
Thank you for turning my life upside down,
so I could turn everything back over
and set things right again.
*
LIKE A WICK
I look so much like my mother you would
think when I stop to study myself in
the rose-colored square of front hall mirror,
I was looking at her ghost: the same strands
of blonde hair whipped sideways; the same blue
eyes; the same full lips smiling crookedly.
What is she so anxious to tell me? To live
my life well because I won’t live long?
That she misses me crouched in her harbor
by the wind-soaked sails? That I should confess
to the bad I’ve done? Or, that I was right:
my father’s not there. That he burns eternally,
far from the poles of her flying feet; still
whole; like a wick in a tongue of flame.
*
Lisa Low’s essays, book reviews, and interviews have appeared in The Massachusetts Review, The Boston Review, and The Adroit Journal. Her poetry has been published in many literary journals, among them Pleiades, Louisiana Literature, Pennsylvania English, Phoebe, and Southern Indiana Review.
Heartbreaking poems…the ending on the second one is surreal and beautiful.
I especially liked “Thank You for Leaving Me.” A pitch-perfect poem about a tone-deaf spouse. And a poetic reminder of the good that sometimes comes from very hard things. Thank you for sharing this poem.
Very powerful, both of these. Your final image in the second literally made me catch my breath. And the first? Like cauterizing a deadly wound; sometimes it’s the only way through.
The imagery of a mom speaking to her daughter through the looking glass is poignant; it resonated strongly with me. And that last line is starkly beautiful. The first poem is breathtaking in its anguish, and hope, but the callous nonchalance of the ex leaves one gasping with unadulterated anger. Thank you for sharing these. I hope to see more.