Fall Again; Before I Came to Know
- Cathexis Northwest Press
- Oct 1, 2019
- 1 min read
By: Mallory Rodenberg
Fall Again
Finally, October
with its alchemy that turns gold to death.
When I walk at night
to see the undressed windows,
illuminated scenes
of children gathered
around televisions,
lone mothers
rubbing their eyes
at kitchen tables,
I wonder
what is wrong with me
that I would trade my life
for different secrets,
different hurts.
On my way home,
where the windows stay shut
like coffins,
I look to haloed streetlamps
to guide me, follow
the sycamores and oaks,
those hapless giants
who suffer the slightest winds,
like I do.
Before I Came to Know
Like a died down
wind,
like a calendar
thrown
in the trash,
there were days
I gave up on love,
that little bird
who didn't want me
for a cage.
There were days
I knew for certain
God closed doors
to open wounds,
that every disaster
would end
alone and wasted
in a dark kitchen,
killed
by a litany of sad songs
from childhood.
When I needed
dead ends to contain me
I drove to the river.
In the rearview mirror
I saw nothing but a blank.
Learned nothing
but to keep this news
to myself.
Mallory Rodenberg is a writer and mother from Southwestern Indiana. She's currently an MFA candidate at Warren Wilson, and her work has previously appeared in Measure: A Review of Formal Poetry.
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