The Tower Journal

Linda Smith

Runaway Child

tiny daughter
of ashes, and Satan
sitting then running and sitting again
crying sobbing screaming
grabbing at the doorway inside of me
don’t leave me!
where are you?
why are you gone?
Panic panic
I’m lost
I have no home
don’t go into the world alone
stay stay stay
stay with the man you know will be here for us
even if everyday is a sad train whistling
in a straight gray line of zombie freight cars rumbling and jerking
behind an oblivious engine
to the next stop and the next stop and the next
unloading loading connecting disconnecting
stay stay stay with daddy!
stay with anyone who will stay with you
don’t go out there alone
protect me from the pain of my future
I’m a turnip child
never stop listening to me or
You will sit there and mold
in the sunlight
stark mean
shards of raw light
cutting sharp angles across your slow old face
turn turning toward the window
looking out at the grass and the street
everyone dead or gone
because you left the one sure thing
you’ll be sitting here alone
in this small bland room
with your mother’s
mute and invisible God

The Miracle of Our Evolution

The creek full of dead fish/ sunken/ muddy bottom
laid flat -dead eyed stares -opened mouths -gills collapsed
we waded into the water and our feet began to rot
we ran to the doctor who couldn't cure us
I became a priestess in the basement of my house
People would appear/disappear
They said I was the devil.
Jesus washed my feet with the chemical spill
now the creek is wine
we drank from it and became fish again

Copyright © 2014 Linda Smith

Linda Morgan SmithLinda Morgan Smith is a poet and painter who lives in New Orleans, Louisiana. Her poetry has been published in Stage and Screenwriters, Full of Crow Press and MicroCrow. Two of her poems were published in  Kumquat Poetry in March of 2014.

The Tower Journal
Spring/Summer 2014