Give me back my grandma’s
voice
weaving
words, threading my mind,
unfolding tapestry of our heritage.
Give me back the days
spinning a stack of 45s
in Davy’s room,
discovering “Pretty Woman,”
singing along with Roy Orbison,
no regrets.
Give me back my hard thighs
flying over the hurdles of my youth.
Give me back my ability to eat a Whopper at noon,
drink regular Coke all day,
indulge in pie on a whim,
never gaining an ounce.
Give me back my passion for painting
before repetition turned to cinders,
canvassing the country
selling art for profit.
Give me back the happiness in the whiskers
of my cat’s chin, lying on my forehead
prior to his passing
to perch on a cosmic cloud.
Give me back years wasted
married to men I did not love
for reasons not yet acknowledged.
Take back the years of being stupid,
never being able to do anything right
because my daughters’ father said so.
Take back the years of trying to please
anyone who was not me.
Take back the years of lying
under the weight
of my conscience banging the headboard.
Take back the dresses I despised,
frilly and femme, unflattering,
never finding a hem I could tolerate.
Give me back the friendly manner
I possessed until I locked the door
after too many knocks
from those that entered
before I was ready.
Give me back.
