Dust to Dusting
May 18, 2020Poem by Jacqueline Schaalje
Wasting days until Dad, accusing me of putting down roots, chased me away.
Wasting days until Dad, accusing me of putting down roots, chased me away.
With just the right amount of useless junk, loneliness is bearable.
It would be my call to make, that perfect moment of doneness.
I’ll put her hair in pigtails, fishtails, French braids, waterfall braids, Dutch braids—whatever she wants.
A scraggly rooster calls my soul from the past.
Humor is a go-to defense in our family when things go wrong, but so much is wrong now.
Are you, like, actually a boy?