|
happy birthday to me
by Angela Thomasi woke up at nine in the morning to the sound
of plates scraping in the kitchen and a faint
smell of burnt toast. the lady in all white padding
around and having her morning tea. i showered,
dressed, and was read the riot act of the day's chores.
a forty-five minute car ride landed me at the IRS office
with a luxurious three hour wait until the stern-lipped
woman behind a pane of glass shuffled around papers
and finally provided the documentation i need to complete
my mother's application for chemotherapy. then a 347
area code hit my phone, my ex hitting me suddenly
with declarations of love and promises of always staying
true, when until now, he couldn't find two minutes to call.
i argued with two doctors and a pharmacist to wrassle
a single pain pill to weather the night. the minute i walked
back in the door, i was hit with more requests, accusations,
winding and elaborate stories of 'how things are done
around here,' all amassing into being yelled at for asking
if we were still going to dinner. i was hungry. my brother
made it home in time to begrudgingly take his sister
to the local feeding trough. the rest of the night was spent
around the kitchen table, with an elephant sized amount
of paperwork, and a baby teaspoon with which to hold it.
my mother screamed, cried, threw papers, knocked over
a chair, and brought me a piece of chocolate to make amends
in the end. i watched myself holding my head in the mirror
adjacent to the kitchen table. i didn't recognize myself
for a moment. i was all sunken eyes, trouble, and pain.
03/03/2010 Posted on 03/03/2010
Copyright © 2024 Angela Thomas
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 03/03/10 at 07:35 PM A very, very difficult day comes through in sharp images here. Hard to read, yet hard to look away. One hopes for a better ending as time goes by. |
|
