Sunday, January 06, 2019

St. John's Wort


I’m two capsules removed
from those toxic sunbeams 
shoving 
down
on my 
shoulders

choking my heart 
with poisonous gray dust

these New Agey herbal supplements
keep me as hard & as ignorant 
as any expensively groomed putz
making six-figures worth
of contributions
to the great multinational
people-eating machine.

a good thing because 
when I pass my son’s room
I see the friendly faces
of the trains, his talking
teddy-bear
& suffer that 

terrible knowledge 
everyone else ignores 
(what can you 
do?) that the

six-year-old 
boy with the 
big gap in his teeth
is dying one day 
at a time
& the smiling 

faces of the trains
his talking teddy bear
will soon entertain rats 
in a rain-soaked landfill
unless they

manage to find 
another home
where

other children are
decaying into dull-witted
teenagers

at best too hassled
to realize they’ve been
dead for as many years
as they’ve been interested 
in grinding hips with
other corpses
like themselves

I have no problem
with growing older as
I’m long since resigned that
the sweet young
things I so adored are
old brittle miseries showing
their true faces at last

I don’t have to look at them 
if I don’t want to
& I don’t but

I have to watch my
son

I have to watch all 
interest & curiosity 
& pure joy flake 
away into a series 
of surly poses

which may or may not
amuse the people to whom 
he sells himself
into slavery as a 
(we hope) 
Responsible Adult.

I took my children’s passage into tweenhood hard. It tore me apart seeing that innocence and joy of play go. Fortunately, they grew up to be great adults, so there was a happy ending to this. Still, you miss those children. You only have them for such a short while.



























From the forthcoming collection Nymphomagic Electroshock and Other Middle-Aged Complaints.
Copyright © 2003, 2019 by Lawrence Roy Aiken.

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