Michael Mayhew's Shared Poems

to speak simply

of late I see a
world turned
to shit

and yet last night
washing the dishes
with my family

dogs underfoot
my daughter
singing to herself

my entire being felt
— luminous.

That is my poem

It's been a ratty year
I mean literally, we've had
An unusual number of rats

First one was last June
In the garden
Ruining the tomatoes
I dispatched him in short order
But didn't see it as
A warning of Things to Come

Then in August one got in
Through the air conditioner
(which revolted me)
A dab of peanut butter
Lured him to his demise
And that seemed to be it

But then the other day I went into the attic
To fetch my daughter's sleeping bag
And there was this fat, tawny rat
Gnawing on a candy cane
It had stolen from our Christmas box

I'll be honest; I screamed
In surprise and horror
And only later, after he had
Sauntered back into the shadows
Did I get angry at
All the destruction he had caused:
Shit everywhere
Precious things ruined

That was in mid-November
And for three weeks now
That rat has avoided all traps

He's wilier then most rats

I don't put much stock in the
Ready-made metaphors
Life sometimes hands us
Simple answers are often
Stupid answers, and there's
Confirmation bias
to contend with

But anyway
Like I said
It's been a ratty year

I got better, that's the point,
Never mind the aches,
In all my joints,
Nor the fever that left me
Flat on the floor,
Moaning and groaning,
By the bathroom door,
Forget the uprush,
Of vomited slime,
Because I recovered
— this time.

Our handball court is
a hot mess

A rutted sand
driveway -
surface
slick as ball
bearings

A crenellated
steel door -
handle jutting
like a rusty
knife

An ancient oak -
limbs grasping
down to block
the play

When our big red ball
strikes there's no telling
where it may careen

We're a bit of a mess
ourselves, my child and
I. We flail at the ball
we skitter and pant
The garage
door booms like a
dime store gong

one ricochet
arcs up high overhead
through the
oak's branches
- clean through -
as if piloted
not a leaf touched
to land
before us
like grace itself

we just watch,
she and I, entranced
and astonished
that such
perfection
could arise from
such
flawed
materials

in that instant

after you
roared at me
and I forgot that I
was the adult
and roared
right back

after you
went away
to sulk while I
sat fuming

after all that

when you
came back to me,
eyes downcast,
and told
me in a voice
soft as
mouse fur
that I
had hurt your
feelings,
and
you missed the
way we
all used to
spend time
together

in
that
instant

my anger
washed away
in a great
sad flood

and a
torrent
of pride
that
you had such
bravery
to trust me
with your
hurt

darling, there are
met at arms
who will race
into a firestorm
before they
admit
such things

men who will
detonate
their own bodies
before such
words can issue
from their throats

if I believed in
Christmas Wishes,
I would grant
everyone
on Earth
the power to
speak
as you spoke,
to
hear
as I heard

and for
one instant
have the courage
of a ten year
old girl