Week 13- Heather Ouellette-Cygan

Posted: June 27, 2011 in Heather Ouellette-Cygan, Week 13

Rubber Neck

 

Every time the circling turkey

Vulture sirens pass our house,

I take inventory of where

Mine are. Need to make sure

The call emergency’s expanding

Sound spins off  to

Is not too close to my bliss;

 

That the whispering touch of E.M.T.s

Will settle someone else’s

Soul to coma, jettison words

Through an impartial mouthpiece

Toward another mother’s ears.

 

While, through my phone,

Cam jokes, “Mom, I’m just calling

With the 4-1-1. I’m at the club.

Just letting you know in case

Something happens. Okay, Mom?” But

 

When I imagine him leaving

Club Three-One-Three with another

Boy in a homophobic

Part of town, I

See him falling from Charlie’s

Bridge or tied to Matthew’s

Fence.  When

 

Zoë calls from the shady

Park, she wants

To play there untended into the evening.

But even as I imagine her friends

Close by, the candy doling strangers,

Lure her from the swinging glee.

 

I swell like a siren swells; I

Can’t say yes to either,

And the ambulance heads

South, away from my emotional

Lockdown, and rolls toward

Another mother’s disaster.


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