Two Poems by Theresa Senato Edwards

Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination Before a Cure can be Determined

         After Torrin A. Greathouse

As a little girl, I often
began counting my steps—
cat in a cage
designed to pace back and forth.
Easy to mistake cat for a child
fighting her own thoughts,
gathering fear
heavy into the day. My
illness, what’s
jammed into my brain:
kingdom of doubt.
Little girl always looking for
mother to help stop worries,
not real ones, mostly
ominous thoughts of
parents dying. Or
quiet repetition—touch doorknobs—
rituals to save the world.
Silent savior-child of woe,
the only way to grow
until she couldn’t
volunteer her stories
without her mother
xeroxing each one.
Young, precious mind
zoned—to trust nothing.

*

Your Last Months

We watched you watch
each wall in our oldest sister’s—

your caretaker’s—spare room,
look for children playing

in the paintings. Bedridden,
you were too weak to color

in the lines. Your torso lengthened;
fat that once cushioned your bones

fell invisibly, air revealed every
crack and crevice of what it was

to be a 69-year-old dying woman.
Grief kaleidoscoped into your stomach,

pain. You used your survival instinct
until you couldn’t eat anymore.

We forgot what your body could do before
all this: dance at weddings, kiss wildly,

hold your great niece on your wide hip.

*

Theresa Senato Edwards has published 3 poetry books—1, with painter Lori Schreiner, winning The Tacenda Literary Award—and 2 chapbooks. Nominated twice for a Pushcart, once for Best of the Net, and once for Best Small Fictions, Edwards is also a full-length poetry manuscript reader for Trio House Press. Her website is http://www.theresasenatoedwards.com.