Claire Scott

The Vast Sky

Easy to feel sorry for myself easy to feel bitter
to feel lonely standing on the sidelines
like a fourth string football player
while the world strides past watching friends
whose sons celebrate marriages and births
as my son spends days in his bed in the dark in a haze
of hurt knowing he will never be well
living in the shadow of his life before the car
before the woman before the red light
before she didn’t see my son the tennis player
his body now torqued and twisted
as his racquets gather dust

Today rainy and gloomy an indoor day
looking at old photos of a child beaming at a kite
wearing a batman suit blowing birthday candles
water pouring off the roof onto daffodils
onto picket fences onto mothers in Ghana
in Portugal in Slovenia mothers praying
for their sons praying without hope
yet still praying pleading petitioning
as the rain turns to droplets to drizzle
rain that has fallen before will fall again
on mothers’ salt-laced faces                                
falling from the vast sky we all share

 

Monsters Then And Now
To my father

You said don’t think about monsters
I thought about monsters
I thought about not thinking about monsters
the musty smell, the red eyes staring

The monsters cough and sputter
waiting for me to fall asleep
so they can grab me with sticky paws
swallow me bite by slurping bite

I walk alone
in the dark hours of the long hall
where deadly bats hide under light switches
and child-eating spiders lurk behind wallpaper

I tiptoe to your side of the bed
and crawl into your love

Today monsters come in different shapes
the skinny man at the IRS with glistening
teeth, drooling on tax returns

The eager boss with razor-sharp shears
told to cut expenses, the woman
at State Farm with fiery hair
crossing out home after home

What of the gorgonian receptionist with
black lips and translucent skin
who won’t let you in to see the doctor
no appointments until 2028

I still try not to think about monsters
I think about monsters
I still try not to not think not thinking about monsters

But there is no longer a long hall
to walk down to find you

 

Claire Scott is an award-winning poet who has received multiple Pushcart Prize nominations. Her work has appeared in the Atlanta Review, Bellevue Literary Review, New Ohio Review and Healing Muse among others. Claire is the author of Waiting to be Called and Until I Couldn’t. She is the co-author of Unfolding in Light: A Sisters’ Journey in Photography and Poetry.