OFFICE VISIT
At the Doctor’s
they’re quick to put you
in a brightly lit room
without a clock, close the door
so you think you’re next,
but honestly, you’re not.
I’m always cold sitting
on the paper-covered exam table,
wearing the short-sleeved gown,
magazine left outside,
shut away from the hallway action
where the staff is merrily chatting.
For years I’ve sat quietly,
patiently, nervously. Isolated.
But now, now I’m in mode of
older smart ass and I-won’t-follow-
your-rules, so I push open the door
… and yes, at long last I am seen.
GRIEF-WORK
I wrote my Mother
a love letter
on a yellow legal pad
a year after her death.
I described workshops taught,
poems published, trips taken,
friends seen, men dated
and at the end
recounted
the incredible loss I felt,
from her absence
in my life.
Then I burned the four pages
in the bathroom sink,
spooned the ashes
into three baggies,
got on a plane to Florida
and scattered the words of love
behind the condo
where she lived with my Dad,
in the park
of the assisted living complex
where she died
in her sleep,
and down the very middle
of her well-kept grave
where I watered the ashes
with my tears.
Bio: Jane Seskin is a clinical social worker and the author of Witness To Resilience: Stories of Intimate Violence. You can follow her on Twitter: @jsauthorshrink