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Will not drown


01.09.12 Posted in words to linger on by

Kay Middleton’s last poem to appear here was Juxtaposition, published as part of Contributor Series 10: Silken Rags, in December 2011.

Will not drown
By Kay Middleton

Tell me again how you discovered pine
thick red beams supporting your house,
how you ran your hand over the rough
sawn timbers and offered thanks and
admiration to the tree and craftsman
that gave of themselves a hundred
years ago by the bay where life
is tenuity and risk, where failure and
loss abound. Tell me how you find it
fitting to stay and no matter the storm
you will not drown, not today.

Tell me again about her and the bags
of worn flip-flops you dragged to the car,
to the thrift store. Reach forward, shout
over loud music and the tabletop
where I do not order pity or platitudes
maybe peace, acceptance of your
joy-filled grief but my response is silent
and I cannot be sure you know how I know
the evening ended too early. Your sorrow,
your tomorrow the dovetailed intersection.
Tell me you will not drown, not today.

Tell me again about the storage unit
in California. And I’ll tell you about
my mother who came in a dream to me,
& told me you would find an antique dress
form there, long forgotten. Look! She sighed
and touched the laces reverently, so lovely,
keep it, she implored. But it isn’t mine,
two sizes small and I don’t sew. Drape a 
scarf-pin a broach she said her eyes
never left the thing in the dream. I knew
she was dead these many years. I savored
the few stolen moments and told myself
to thank you tomorrow for the story of California
that brought her back. And how we will not drown.




3 Responses to “Will not drown”

  1. Really wonderful, engaging poem!

  2. Marty Basden says:

    Three strong stanzas. I like it. Go KM. Marty.

  3. bobbie troy says:

    Wow, what a story. Nostalgic and beautiful.

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