a poem a day for a year #11

by Amy Turn Sharp


tonight we will reenact scenes from the movie Dead Poets Society

the cave scene

the desk scene

perhaps even Puck's soliloquy

only we will crowd in an irish pub

and stand on bars

and tiny fourtop tables

and big thick wooden booths

We are like those boys

full of awe and wonder

and fear

and words

only we are drunk moms

who talk about the same sex

the same problems

the same things that make us cry

and rage against normalcy

and mini vans

and mortgages

and dirty diapers

we are free when the ale runs

through our blood

like captains

o captains

like suburban Walt Whitman motherfuckers

all over the place

and people stare

let them

later outside

I will pull some leaves off the parking lot trees

stick them on my head

and become Puck

I am all naughty

and mischievous

and I will tell you good night

with words

that make you come back

words that wrap you in a snug

community

 

yeah we are just like those boys

we have years and years in us

to find our purpose

still

we close each society meeting

with the same

laugh

hiccup

thought

everything is going to be fine

just fine

we have each other

we have this time