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Martha
by David GarnerI was nine and you were thirty.
You had no teeth and you were dirty.
Martha.
I thought that you were twice your age.
Weathered face, internal rage.
Martha.
You told me that I had to kiss you.
Kiss you and that I will miss you.
Martha.
I screamed and cried, "It's time to go!"
But time stood still to watch this show.
Martha.
"Kiss her, David!" "On the lips!"
You grabbed me tight with finger tips.
Martha.
I cringed and cried. And I was frigthened.
Everything was really heightened.
Martha.
Your lips were pursed.
My lips were cursed.
Martha.
And then the kiss.
I tried to miss.
Martha.
Creases, cracks, really dry.
I was crying, "No!" and "Why?"
Martha.
We left your house. Got in the car.
This had gone on way too far.
Martha.
Mom and Dad thought this was funny.
My eyes were still wet and runny.
Martha.
Your lips had traumatized me then.
From that point on to who knows when.
Martha.
Martha.
Martha.
Martha.
03/20/2008 Author's Note: When I was young, my grandfather remarried. He met a woman half his age, but to me, she looked much older. Her name was Martha and she had no teeth.
Posted on 03/20/2008
Copyright © 2025 David Garner
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Keith McFarlane on 03/20/08 at 08:20 PM This has a cool sing-song rhythm fitting for a piece about childhood (even childhood trauma). Having experienced some of this situational unfairness from my otherwise great parents, I know just where you're coming from. And the whole idea makes me want to run to the bathroom and get out the mouthwash. |
| Posted by Rhiannon Jones on 03/24/08 at 12:27 AM I love the Martha Martha repetition...the whole thing makes me think of my own Aunt M. Cruel, what grown-ups make kids feign, for the sake of appearances. |
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