Palatinate Poetry: R.I.P.

by Rachel E. Tavaler 


Age seven, time
Of old lady and shoe
A grave was a shape you drew
On Halloween decorations
With letters R. I. P.

Gravestones were drawn
With Crayola crayon
Curtains were drawn
Keep you safe and sound
Now the daggers are drawn

Over dad’s homemade burger
You lose your appetite
Not from a Halloween fright
You realise you won’t be here forever
Nor will mother or father or brother

Your brother is your best friend
You’ve known him all your life
At seventeen he jokingly said
(‘At least I hope!’ Nervous ‘hehe’)
‘You’ll be around all my life’

It’s nice to return the favor
To be the constant he is for me
But there’s a certain melancholy
When he remarks you’ll likely outlive me
Three letters flash before me

Mum and dad and brother
For now have one another
But being the youngest
I’m not the wisest
I better be the toughest

I want to go back to seven
To the moments I’ve idealised
Because moments go quicker
And you’re always surprised
To find that you’re older

One day you’ll live far far away
Happily ever after is temporary
The most familiar thing’s a cemetery
Dad doesn’t cook for you anymore
Orange blossoms grow through the floor

So I try to make chaos with the time I have left
Because anything’s better than peace


Image by Lucky Poet via Flickr Creative Commons 

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