Maggie JochildSAGOI. II. My memories were still there III. *** PIEDMONT AVE.At the end of that row of shops with cleanglass windows and gilt names in trendy fonts Right before the cemetery which marbled Up the hills, lombardy poplars elbowing Eucalyptus, graves thick as matches in a box At the gates was a parking lot which every October Got half covered with straw and piled up Orange and globular by pumpkins Saving us the drive to Half Moon Bay Pricey, of course, and the little gourds Ornamental squash, Indian corn Were set at ridiculous rates But a pumpkin or two we could afford Haul them home and invite over the Neighbor boys, hand out markers and Real knives, no fooling around with those Supermarket versions -- if they sliced Off a finger, it would be a Halloween They'd never forget, now wouldn't it? Then they were called home and we had Supper with the smell of roasting seeds Taking over the whole apartment. We would Light candles and set the jacks on our sill Walk around the block slowly for the thrill Of coming back home and seeing the flicker Your arm in mine, talking my ears off Me struggling not to wheeze, not to Be stopped by the burn in my knees and feet You believed I was lazy, just needed to Get in shape. The x-rays and diagnosis Were still ten years away, and I was willing To let you name my disease as sloth Because you loved me, why would you say Such a cutting thing if it were not true? BIO: Maggie Jochild of Austin, Texas has twice won Astraea Lesbian Writer's Fund awards for her poetry, most recently in 2005. She was for four years a core writing and performing member of Actual Lives, a page-to-stage theater troupe for adults with disabilities directed by Terry Galloway. She has been published in Sinister Wisdom, Natural Bridge, Borderlands, Bridges, Earth's Daughters, and many other journals. She is sixth-generation Texan, third-generation Lesbian, and is currently working on a novel. |