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(3) Having words in Ocean Beach
by Meghan HelmichYour grandmother died in a golden recliner,
and the night she passed,
she talked to her dead ex-husband
about the lotto numbers
and the black family that moved in next door.
So when we moved to San Diego,
I didn't give you a hard time
when you took an hour to choose
the living room furniture,
fingering the upholstery cautiously
as if we would die holding hands
in the loveseat of your choice. 11/08/2011 Posted on 11/08/2011
Copyright © 2025 Meghan Helmich
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Sal Haefling on 11/08/11 at 07:27 PM Vivid, intoxicating. |
| Posted by Leslye Writer on 11/08/11 at 07:43 PM !!!!!!! I love it and such a huge circle of life and family...spare and rich |
| Posted by Nadia Gilbert Kent on 11/08/11 at 07:58 PM I really like how succinct this is. Serves the imagery well. |
| Posted by Joe Cramer on 11/08/11 at 09:22 PM ... this is excellent..... |
| Posted by Frankie Sanchez on 11/09/11 at 05:39 PM please give this a title. please. this is outstanding. |
| Posted by W. Mahlon Purdin on 11/24/11 at 07:47 PM Meghan, I reviewed your portfolio and then came back to read (1) through (7) again. They should set up a system where we can rate a series of poem all at once. This series is great, quietly resting there in your list of poems. They are all fantastic, real, genuine and unforgettable. I chose (3) to put the comment because of this stanza:
So when we moved to San Diego,
I didn't give you a hard time
when you took an hour to choose
the living room furniture,
fingering the upholstery cautiously
as if we would die holding hands
in the loveseat of your choice.
I am so happy I found your work. -- Bill
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| Posted by Richard Vince on 12/20/23 at 12:04 AM Two moments in one, the duality of living in the present while acutely aware of the past. So much in so few words. Really impressive. |
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