leftovers from a gathering of strangers and believers
decision to save $15 not attending local tattoo convention
lonely for friends locked by tradition not belief
I imagine a Donny Darko rabbit
visiting the churches, a machine gun hidden in his basket
"Set my people free"
I remember my young son, hands purple with egg dye,
eyes glistening over the jelly bean strewn carpet.
(We'd be finding jelly beans for weeks
but still I demanded this messy tradition
the way my child/mind's eye saw it.)
He would find the numbered eggs we carefully hid
(numbered so no stray egg would escape undiscovered)
gently lay them back into the egg carton.
Then scamper outside to hide the eggs for us to find,
to hide again, to find and hide until dark hid us all
and we closed the lid on another day.
Published by G.L. Morrison
With sundry awards, magazines & anthologies to her credit, Morrison's taught writers @conferences in Portland, Seattle, SF, Boston, Chicago, NYC and Washington DC at the Library of Congress. View profile
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3 Comments
Post a CommentYou paint such a descriptive picture with your words! I really enjoyed this. :)
Yes and ever the overachieving poet, I wrote clues to where the eggs where hidden. So he would write us "clues" and before he could write effectively he would "memorize" the clue and pretend to read his scribble. His other mother and I would always look it over very seriously and then ask him to read it to us. (The safest thing to do with kid's drawing too. "Oh I like this color. Do you want to tell me about the picture?" Never guess. LOL.)
Cool! ...... #'d eggs; wise indeed.