11 July 2012
man walking my way
across deserted playground
trees inhale . . . . . . . . hold breath
Is he safe? It’s 6:30am. What’s he doing here at this time of day? Looks like he’s been sleeping in the park. Rumpled work clothes—not very clean or stylish. He’s watching me. Thank goodness I’m wearing sunglasses. Read the rest of this entry »
This episode in my life was a smelly, rotting stench in me all the way through school, college and my first years of marriage. Even after I told my husband about it, I still smelled the old man regularly and without warning. It was a living, breathing, stinking rotten nightmare.
Despite this, I never wrote it down or reflected on what it reveals about me, much less about my relationship to my parents. I simply tried to put it away and let the past be the past. Done. Over. Finished. Time to move on. Read the rest of this entry »
thick roots tangled knots
barely hanging onto bank
drink deep waters
* * *
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2 January 2014
Photo credit: DAFraser, October 2012
Hoyt Arboretum, Portland, Oregon
