Morning Glory

Posted on August 10, 2012 by Katie

This poem was also inspired by Brooke’s mom. Blue morning glories always remind me of Jo. Looking back on this poem now, I see that it probably needs a lot of work. There are a few places where it almost seems like I’m telling an inside story of some kind. I’m sorry for that. It resonated with me then! I’m going to leave it as is though – in an effort to let this be what it is: a poem from my past.

MORNING GLORY

Every time I pass the vine, I think of you.
I think of you on the balcony basking in the light of the rising sun.
Waves crash in our ears, and we talk about nothing and everything all at once.
I try not to think of the night you left.
You clung desperately to the life that loved you.
The life that treated you so well.
The life that gave you the beautiful family you left behind.
I remember watching him hold your hand and whisper loving words into your ear.
I remember you reaching out to touch his face, just before you fell into sleep.
I wondered then why the good are always the ones to die young.
Or maybe, the bad die young too, but maybe we just don’t care enough to notice.
So I said goodbye, unwillingly.
Glad to see your pain gone, cried at the pain we had yet to endure.
I huge her a lot.
Let her know I love her,
And we remember you together.
We return to the balcony, eat the bacon and think back to when you were here.
The sun shines on her face just as it did on yours, and I marvel at the resemblance.
The flowers returned today, in all their glory, in spite of us thinking they were gone.
Hello to you too, my friend.

Katie Swisher (née Kermeen)
October 5, 1999

The Bird

Posted on August 9, 2012 by Katie

This poem was written about my friend, Brooke. Her mother passed away in December of 1998, and it was a fairly traumatic experience for me. I can’t imagine the pain she and her sister felt. This poem was written almost a year after her death, when Brooke tried to nurse a sick bird back to health – something her mother used to do. When the bird died, I was struck with an unreasonable amount of grief, and I realized that I was grieving Brooke’s mom’s death all over again.

THE BIRD

She just buried a bird.
He was only a day in her life,
Yet she cried.

He was sickly,
And she cared for him.
She said her mother used to do the same.

Her mother had been like the bird,
And she had cared for her.
She said anyone would have done the same.

She buried her mother again today, in memory of the bird.
Or maybe she buried the bird in memory of her mother.

Katie Swisher (née Kermeen)
1999

Plastic Porn Queen

Posted on August 8, 2012 by Katie

This poem was inspired by an issue of Rolling Stone magazine. Brittany Spears was on the cover (linked here). My parents had a subscription, and this particular issue was laying in the bathroom one day. I had just finished getting ready for the day, and felt really confident until I turned and saw this cover. It immediately deflated me! Just a note: I’m not sure who has plastic boobs or not, so please don’t start leaving comments about particulars like that. Just take it for what it is, okay? 🙂

PLASTIC PORN QUEEN

Look at me!
Bright blue eyes and shiny blonde hair.
My full lips and white teeth join to form a pretty smile.
I look good!

But then I turn and see
that girl on the cover of Rolling Stone.
“A Teen Sensation!” they say.
Bitch.
Half-naked at 17, and there are more like her.
24-inch waists, shapely legs and plastic boobs surround me.
My head spins at the 12 year old with porn queen eyes.
The eyes that stare at me in laughing contempt.
“You’ll never be as pretty as me,” she says.
I want to throw up.