Blue Skies and Brambles

My mother sits in
her old creaking
rocking chair and
looks out the window.
I don’t know what happened she says.
You children used to be so happy.
Yes, in the summer
when the sky was blueblueblue
and we tried to catch
frogs next to the lake.
Or daydreamed
hours away
in the house
until Pappy told us to
Go Out Side.
And run about and look at things.
We never did run about,
but went and hid in the climbing tree
or fort.
And daydreamed more until supper.
But then the too huge world got huge-er
and the blueblueblue skies
turned grey.
And the fourth grade teachers
slapped our knuckles with rulers for
Not Paying Attention.
But I was paying attention.
I was the only one in the room who knew that she was really an ex-nun
fruitlessly in love with the priest-principal.
The school counselors said my imagination
Ran Wild
when I told them.
and said I better concentrate on my multiplication tables and sent a note home to my mother.
The grey skies turned
rosy
follow by dark night lit by football floodlights.
In small town Wisconsin, the weekly event is the high school football game.
To see if the Catholics can beat the Protestants.
Kelly is much too quiet and spends too much time alone.
The school pyschologist lisps to my mother, spraying my face with her spit.
Why can’t she
Just Make Friends?
My mother’s sitting in her old creaking
rocking chair
sighing.
And the sky from beneath the
overgrown
brambles of the fort is
blueblueblue.

Kelly Prosen