Something Worth Letting Go

“How can you stand to lose it all?”
That is the refrain on repeat
As if clothing and the coffee maker
Had some deep meaning
Deserved my grief

I suppose it is the fruits of my labor
But fruit rots
Like my body
Like flowers on graves
For those I love

Time is slipping away
Always passing
All that stuff is just shit
All that money is just green paper

I know too life without green paper
It is so mean it drives us to spend
One third our lives in its pursuit

But my dresser did not hug me
My shoes did not comfort me

When it all became too much
When life’s edges tore at me
Made me ragged
Beyond my ability
To bear my grief

It is all ash now
Blowing in the winds

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, January 2015

Glamorous

Friday morning started precisely at 7am for Abigail Rudd, as did every morning at Acme Chemical for the past six years. She parked her Volkswagen in the exact same spot and plodded to the front door to start her day managing the front office. Some of her co-workers sat on the loading dock with coffee and cigarettes before their shift. They would watch her pass and say “Good morning” to her. She would say “Good morning” back and there ended their conversation.

Abby was round, the shape and color of a dried gourd but with better skin. Although painfully shy, she wore fashionable patterned skirts as if someone had meticulously painted that gourd. They swung across her wide backside to the delight of some of the more lonely loading dock crew. She had a clumsy gate and kept her arms outstretched as if she were trying to maintain her balance. She had delicate hands and held them in a peculiar way- with her wrist bent, thumb and index finger pinched together, the rest of her fingers fanned outward in the shape of a bird’s wing scooping the air, trying to take flight. Read more…

Lady of Green Glen

Black cold night falls
Orange street lamp alights
Snow
It reflects
Illuminates the glen

She appears
Trick of the light
Shadow
Crouched, naked, pale
Porcelain legs

Black hair cascades
Hand covers her mouth
Worry
Fear of discovery
Under the jungle gym

Apparition of a woman
Stands only at night
Frozen
Fades at dawn
Until next dark

-Copyright C.M. Mounts, October 2003 (revised February 2017)