A Poem by Jacqueline Markowski

Charlie Horse

 

I can see you spilling, like sour milk,

into the room through the crack

beneath the door. You incubate,

blatantly ignorant to what frightens

her at night, who her best friend is, why

she likes the color green so much.

It’s easier this way, I can smell

your selfish essence through

 

the reasons you utter when shame presses

you to give them. She is yours, you say,

like a possession, a doll. You need her,

you admit; she needs you, a broth you pour

when it’s convenient, never supposing

a stain might set. You don’t even know

she got her first hair cut. If you could see

 

her, holding tight to a balloon

you gave her nine months ago,

pretending it still floats. She talks

about you… about that time

she rode a horse named Charlie

and you stood in the shade

watching, pale with paranoia, exhausted

by the energy spent not knowing.

You preach at her that you’re her father—

No one else is Daddy… you say

sternly. She thinks she’s done something

wrong; she won’t trust her instincts

 

next time. Daddy means something different

to her than it does to her friends. It means:

 

sometimes, not for long, hotel rooms, promises

spent like pennies in a fountain. She

uses plain language to describe a father

who sleeps on the floor by her bed

when she’s frightened,

who bathes her, who reads her stories every

night, even when she doesn’t ask. Simpler words,

 

so that she doesn’t fail you, so that maybe

you’ll come back sooner. I stand off

to the side, mute like an unwound clock.

Nothing comes naturally, no excuses,

no reasons. Only regret. I kiss her

instincts, hoping maybe in time they’ll grow

back, hoping muscles sore

from the unforgiving saddle heal

quickly. If nothing else, hoping

the burlap of her plain language

doesn’t wear through like most

things do, meaning less than her

original intent. 

 

 

 

Jacqueline Markowski is a writer of poetry and short stories. She lives in Charlotte, NC where she divides her time between writing and being a homeschooling mother. Her poetry has appeared in Chronogram Magazine, Cochlea/The Neovictorian and Permafrost Literary Journal. She was awarded first place in poetry during the 2006 Sandhills Writers Conference. She is currently working on a compilation of short stories but who’s she kidding- she’ll never finish.