Before the Bridges Fell #19 : Circles in the Puddles for Jehovah by David L O’Nan – Poetry

photo by David L O’Nan

Circles in the Puddles for Jehovah

first published in Lothlorien Poetry Journal

Every day it seemed to rain sharp ice in a soggy wind.
She hoped it would cut her out of this straitjacket.
In the room with a floral virus glued to 1970’s wallpaper.

From a target’s window the rain covers the blue moon.
Trying to purge the little blades of stars into a sunset.
Breathing little heartbeats from heaven and forming
Little circles in the puddles for Jehovah.

She was born in the Tropic of Cancer
Spending her birthday all day in Grandmother’s kitchen.
Where the grilled cheese smoke weaved in with the cigarette smoke.
Brought licks to the lips and spend time gossiping about town-folk with the Matron leader.

The room rotates in her drunk mind.
Sips from medicine that isn’t hers. 
She lives like a funeral home.  Bare in a room all day minus the prayers.
A decrepit Buddha sits on top of her old brown diary full of impure thoughts about divinity.
That hasn’t been touched since a Valentine’s Dance 5 years prior.
When love mixed with danger, and now you dance only in little circles
In the puddles for Jehovah.

She was a 1990’s child.
Baptized in a 3 star restaurant.
While her mother signed her divorce papers to a horny cheating lizard.
She’d eat the free ice cream like mice to cheese crumbs.
And sung her way through the trauma.
Afterschool talk shows and taped Soap Operas for a hermit in her room.

Everyday the pizza burned, the divorcees would sit together and laugh like hyaenas
 in the living room.  
They’d treat their daughters like a contest.  Who could get the
best glamour shot from a gothic 15 year old in an unwanted dress?
And they’d all make the same mistake over and over again.  Meet another man just like
 the last one.  
From the golf courses to weekend sun tan getaways.  And their daughters have 
to grow in the blinding view from the swinging light of the giants.  Living in little circles in 
The puddles for Jehovah.

Inside she is quills and frail and declared insane.
By oh loving mothers and a father busy in his own vain.
The neighborhood just seems full of truck filled streets.
The Winter summoned the streets to a freeze.  
Overcome the concrete.   And now the puddles are no longer circling
Jehovah sent down the stars to crash paralysis to the weak sky.
By March we walk like jelly filled our legs.
Just waiting for the sunlight to come and dance on our open eyes.
We want our puddles to thaw.  Maybe the fog can regain vision?

Interview with EIC David L O’Nan with Anastasia Abboud on Grains of Sand : About how I write, my weird thoughts and a few of my revised Cohen Avalanches in Poetry Poems.

Before the Bridges Fell #18: Rumors of Candles by David L O’Nan – poetry

Before the Bridges Fell #17 : By Our Well by David L O’Nan – poetry

Before the Bridges Fell #16: In 1961…In 1961 by David L O’Nan – poetry

Before the Bridges Fell #15 : A Pond Full of Stars by David L O’Nan – poetry

Poem #3 from Before the Bridges Fell by David L O’Nan : “They Had Sadness in Their Eyes (like in Littleton)” – poetry

By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

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