happened . . .
every night
when I was seven
every night so I could not
did not want to
sleep
not when I would dream of tension
snowy static like the first television
when the station would not come in right
antenna moving ensued
but first
several minutes of
hissing crackling sparky frenetic energy
until the rabbit ears were positioned just right
so
in my sleep the scream of static
as if my terror frustration bewilderment were suddenly
shown to me each night
and then
a massive overstuffed chair
floating in midair
tried to push a needle into a
telephone pole
no luck but
I could feel the fierce power of the
attempt
then the scene changed
became
clouds where a man and woman waltzed
twirling ‘round and ‘round
mysteriously in the air
no feet on the ground
no floor anywhere
looking blissfully happy
resembling my father and mother who
danced so beautifully
and had so much
passion
sometimes
when they were not fighting
screaming
escalating insanity
scaring my sister and me
and I saw in his eyes
the madness in his mind
an innocent “blue baby” my Grama told me
too young to understand what it meant
locked in the wildman’s body
not his fault the cord wrapped tight
oxygen deprived
but
the screen split as I slept
with the magic couple at the top of it
and below his suit and tie and her strapless full-skirted gown
spinning ‘round
a shack appeared with tattered curtains
behind broken glass
cats and whiskey bottles on the grassless ground
a trash can spilling over
with a black book and a ladie’s high heel pump at the top of the heap
but
the focal point for me was the child
perched on cracked stone steps
between decayed porch rails
a child who looked like
my sister
me
every member of my family
a face that changed with every episode of the dream initially
finally settling in to the little boy my father had been
MY DADDY as a boy with one shoe off and
one shoe on
his name was Jon
and a tear ran down his cheek
as a black cat left the scene . . .
I awakened terrified confused
screaming right out of sleep
unable to explain what frightened me
night after night after night
until thankfully the dream left me completely at 14 . . .
stepping from an elevator 24 years later
I saw him down the long corridor
leaning with a wide smile into the doorway of a really old man
who was living his last days
in the Veteran's hospital in Madison Wisconsin
he stood there beaming glowing
telling the old guy what a “ beautiful thing”
life is
I had not seen my father in ten long years
as he delivered good cheer
wearing nothing but a pair of track shorts of course
with the back of his head stapled on
after brain tumor surgery
salt and pepper long hair remained all around the trap door
framing his beautiful face
flicking his bare shoulders as he traveled the hall
moving to the next doorway
with nothing but positive to say
I stared scanning him up and down as he moved away
with finesse from a lifetime of athletic prowess
he would “beat it” no doubt he had said
of the malignancy in his head
and I traveled 16 hours to see for myself
hoping and praying all the way that he would
win this one like he had so many times
with basketball in hand
collecting trophies and ribbons
newspaper clippings
breaking records and rules and hearts
and faces in his rages
holes in the walls
spankings that lasted too long
handsome talented artist athlete scary man was like an angry orangutan
we never knew why or
when
but it would always happen again
tough man contest winner
could “charm the birds outa the trees”
other tough men told me
as my mother knew well when he left us and came back
over and over
and made our life hell
but she could not say no
so they made five babies before it was over
like both of them
beautiful crazy and strong
and he was up and running
one day after brain surgery
like nothing was wrong
as I surveyed his fabulous body 57 years young
then I lost my breath and almost fell down
that I knew as a child dreaming night after night
not knowing what I knew
but knowing
the moment would come
when I looked at his feet
one shoe was on and the other was
gone . . .
and so was he four months later
from a massive blastoma that had been there
all along . . .
Domestic Violet
Semper Vi ~
Survivor . . . from the VORTEX