Today I found pen scribbling all over
the kitchen wall around the switch plate Like the footsteps she left all over my heart In erratic love for something © Doniell Cushman. All Rights Reserved. This poem or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a review.
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I wince when flying hands come
toward my face I was hit too many times to suppress the instinct I can still remember those times He'd attempt to break my glasses every time I recoil when arms come flailing toward my body I want to dodge any further blows and scratches They left red marks, scars and bruises I can still remember those times He'd attempt to rip my face open I push away when bodies come tumbling into me I have fallen enough now to be caught off guard I can still remember those times He had no self-control and would take me down © Doniell Cushman. All Rights Reserved. This poem or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a review. My first heart was broken so many times
I couldn't bear to identify it And when I returned to do a teaching observation at my old high school Choir-man remembered me as the girl who was always crying My first heart questioned "why me?" I no longer do I've chosen what to care about and it's no longer over why Philosophy asks why Philosophers ask why not I simply ask how And when I really want or need it when I ask Determines if My new heart asks how © Doniell Cushman. All Rights Reserved. This poem or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a review. Minor, Major, Diminished
Three together Or four, plus 6 Bang Bang Bang Slapping it out on those ivories One, two, C7+13 Why would anyone use a thirteen? Can't we just use a six? Gently cascading Falling like droplets off the gutter Splotching with a slap Bang Bang Bang Roman numeral four augmented Forbidden devil's music Or Westside Story, thanks Bernstein Get them out perfect fifth Or fourth plus 6 M-i-n or m-i or m Or M Or no M Third inversion add two Like a Steely Dan chord Mr. Turnbull would stop us and yell "yeah" as he nodded his head, eyes gleaming Major-minor seventh Qualify that group © Doniell Cushman. All Rights Reserved. This poem or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a review. |
AuthorDoniell Cushman, B.A. cum laude Archives
June 2022
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