Blanket Fort Reflection (Running 12 months back)


Driving one hundred fifty miles a day
The dog kept me company along the way.
Daughter unconscious in the hospital:
no iron, no potassium, no life.
Mom: pacemaker, nicked heart, she might not survive.
Daughter planned surgery.
Apply for PhD.
Daughter emergency surgery.
Accepted: Trinity.
Work gets tense. PhD fades away.
The dog sleeps on my feet. Content just to be.
I’m suddenly unemployed.
Empty rooms, broken dreams. Sleeping dog.
Politics gets too weird—especially if you’re not a ten.
Write a book. Haunting characters
fill all the space. Magic horses to
help me fly away. My lovebird dies.
The dog licks my cheek, nuzzles by my side.
Grab ’em by the pussy men take control
Memories flood–so long ago–just yesterday.
64 million friends and neighbors
believe the bastard, and now rape’s ok.
Stamp of approval. Panic attacks.
I get a job, then two, three.
Now four. Hollow Christmas
Empty New Year’s. Government falls
Education fails. Trinity calls.
Magic horses scream into the growing
void inside my soul.
The dog collapses. He begs for my strength.
I cradle his fears: give back what I’ve gotten.
The littlest parrot is buried by the cedar.
The dog recovers. The magic of medicine.
Son’s heart is under attack—CICU—watch him sleep.
Just twenty-four, how’s that fair? Zero days of work missed.
A darkened parking lot, a drunk with a knife–
Thank God for knees and Fuck You boots.
The dog greets me at the door. He doesn’t judge—
He leads the way to every room, makes sure I’m safe.
Safe. Write it out. Explore the past. Invaded again: inbox full.
The stolen seat—59 Tomahawks
Panic rises. Frozen. Alone.
Breathe, just breathe. Breathe in, breathe out.
Count the heartbeats. Work, just work—
Must walk to the car in the darkened lot: knife in hand.
The news is bad: the dog might die…
I’ll be in my blanket fort.
Not wanting to care about my dying country
sick or injured friends, broke or broken kids,
working late, or rapists around the corner.
But I do.
 
And the dog might die.
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2 thoughts on “Blanket Fort Reflection (Running 12 months back)

  1. I have walked in your moccasins my friend, where everything and everyone fails and I was alone… alone when there were hands reaching out to hold my own, I kept my hands in my pocket, on my camera on my sword, the pen. I didn’t reach out to get what I really needed which was someone , anyone to save me from myself… my world….my thoughts. Bubblewrap would never be enough… a blanket fort is so soft…. and vulnerable… a fortress my friend of LOVE and healing … is what I needed and maybe still need. Your strength, I knew when I put that heart on your wall was faltering, I could feel you from afar… and then the emotions I see I read I hear all make sense. Thank God for the Fuck You Boots – I thought I had everything I need… but I don’t …. I want a pair.

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