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Kitchens
The smells, the cook, the wallpaper, sex...who knows?

i enter the tiny space
with caution
carefully less I step on something
precious
all about me is her presence
there
her little sneaker
and over there in the corner
a pile of teddy bears
it is so quiet here
in her environment
the place where she sleeps
cries
begs to be changed
a place of frolic
of rocking horse and rocking chair
baby books and pianos
turned pages and struck tunes
here where laughter is infectious
and love spills around the shadows of
her empty room

she's gone off with mommy for the day
some place uptown
at first i thought her absence a chance
for work or pondering
but soon i knew the meaning of
hollowness
and displacement
what
who am i without both of them
laughing or crying
singing or fussing about the bath?
only a circus of memories
twirling batons
trying to tame the big cats
bears and elephants
oh god
i can't do it without them!
especially without her
for there is no peace
except in the smell of her soiled
diapers
the crumbs on my bed
and her constant nagging
to bang on the computer

in her room there is an early privacy
i see it form
almost daily
the caterpillar caught up in some
gigantic metamorphosis
first a wriggling
ugly thing
but later
a winged and beautiful butterfly
flying
not slinking
away from me
i know i can't hold on forever but
at least i have the years to see her
grow
and the love to watch her at play
in her little room
where changes take shape in
private places that i will never know

here there is a cascade of games
falling from childhood
to young woman
even i can
in my own biased way
see this
yet still i cannot accept her absence
for a day
is this father-love
or just plain love?
she is more than a child to me
more than the fulfillment of a dream
or instinct to continue
the genetic brew
she is my little promise of hope
that i will never be alone

yet here i am
on a bright-lit saturday afternoon
realizing how lonely
lonely can be
among her toys and small dresses
the alphabet blocks
shapes and colors
even the wallpaper causes me to
remember
the smells of powder and wet-wipes
are like auras before a
grand mal seizure
except that i am seized with
a deeper love than i could have
ever known
had she not gone away
to play uptown
with those as little and precious as
she
in her room the shadows deepen
they cause me to stir
i can't play at this game any longer
perhaps there is comfort in work
or pondering
at least time will wind down
and with a burst of
"hi, daddy!"
i will have regained all that is
important
forgetting the blight of loneliness
that too deep an introspection
brings
then i will gladly play
with her
in the romper room

© carlyle miller

 blackunicrn@yahoo.com
with your poem...I'll be waiting for you!!!!
 

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