megwrites

"Used to Be"
By: Meg Freeman


I used to want so many things
I used to want
that tall, aloof boy
to look my way
and I used to want
to hear God putting things
in my heart
like slotting a mixtape
into a deck
and hitting play

I used to wish
for a tall dark horse
with a white mane
who loved me only
to ride
and a seashore home
and to have
charming unstrange
strangers to
whisper to me
of my power and specialness
and take my
hand and lead me to
undangerous danger
by way of adveture

I used to want
pop tarts every morning
and all the orange juice
and peanut butter I
could eat
and swiss cake rolls
every damn night
And nothing more
than enough paper
to write and draw
my fill
because that was enough
back then

I used to be the
stupidest saddest
lump of a thing
I ever knew.
I used to be too
goddamn dumb to live

Now, I'm still
a stupid sad lump
but I've gotten
smart enough to die.

The Wolves That Live Inside - A Series of Canine Haikus
By: Meg freeman

I.

Smelled of you, I chewed
Felt good ripping in my mouth
I love with teeth

Smelled of food, I opened
Entire feast in this big bucket!
How convenient.


II.

I hide from others
when I am going potty
but not you, you're safe

Eep! This place scares me.
On metal table. Okay. I'll stay still.
Because you say so.

We're in the car now.
Where are we going? I don't know.
But you'll be there, too.


III.
You give food freely
And you don't even growl
When I eat it. Why?

If it were my food
It would be so hard to share
I would protect it

This giving of food
Makes you magical to me
How do you do it?

IV.
You were gone forever
was it just five minutes?
time stops without you

V.
Rumble outside. Bark!
You must be informed about it
I will scare it for you

Had to mark carpet
if I don't how will anyone know
that this home is mine?

No bath! I smell fine
Your nose must be defective.
Stupid bubble water

I don't understand
The pillow is soft and warm
Why not chew on it?


VI.

What are you saying?
Maybe if I tilt my head?
Nope. Still makes no sense.

Head tilts the other way
This angle isn't any better
Why are you laughing?

My name is No! No! No!
But you only say it angry.
What's "Coraline" mean?

Nose to butt, you scream
What for? I was just smelling
For what's new with you


VII.

I killed it myself
Look! It's insides are everywhere
Ducks are very fluffy

I sleep with this pelt
Because it's mine, I killed it.
I dream like a wolf.


VIII.

Here. You lost this ball.
What are you doing human?
You threw it again!

Those dogs enjoy it.
I doubt their intelligence
Now, let's play some tug.

Yay! You try to take toy
I try to take it back from you
This is much more fun.

Tail monster appears
Grr! I got it! Oh. Nevermind.
Just my butt appendage


IX.

Hello new dog friend
I will let you sniff my butt!
Can I lick your face?

Slow down! Lots of trees
Lots of pee mail to catch up on.
Smells like Bella got spayed.

Tag, you're it! Chase me!
Run run right to my human
Her legs are home base.


X.


That's all you wanted?
Sit? Why didn't you say so?
Butt on floor, easy.

Oh. I did good. Click.
You say "Touch!". Put nose to hand.
I'd do that anyway.

Stay? Okay. Click. Treat. Yay!
At last you speak fluent Dog.
Now you yell much less.

I see the treat bag!
You don't have to even ask me
Butt already on floor.

Ignore the flying bird
You don't want me to chase it
See? I'm a good dog!

What? No treat for that?
I did real good! Did you see?
I didn't chew shoes!

Didn't you see it?
No shoe chewing! I left it!
So why no "good girl!"?


XI.

You let me on bed
Twirl three times, rest beside you
Ah, yes, belly rubs.

Sometimes I dream
A small bad-smelly scary place.
I wake. Yay! Home again!

Good morning, human!
Huh? What does "ah! cold nose!" mean?
Yay! You love me! Lick.

(c) Meg Freeman.

"He Passed Today"
By: Meg Freeman

At ninety-five
he lived in the morning,
ate lunch with his son
and before dinner
had passed on, leaving what
little of his remains
remained

He was the man who
smiled bare gummed and
chased me and my little
sister with his false
teeth upon request
when he asked, polite and
begging and in our best
sunday dresses
We were little twin tulips
then, bright and fresh
and green as spring
clothed in pink and yellow
and white frilled socks
and shiny black shoes
we ran to him for hugs
with squealing little girl voices
and he was a pillar
he was the sky
he was Papaw.
He would always stay,
of that we remained certain
He would no more disappear
than the sun desert it's post

I drank Kentucky bourbon whiskey
in his honor
I drank rum for my own sake

I know this of him:
He worked the coal mines
and what he brought up from the earth
fueled a terrible, wonderous, disasterous
age of change upon change
he loved his wife so much
that when all other memories faded,
he worried that she would, at 93, find
another man to come home with her
He narrowly escaped the great war,
and his children spared him conscription
but still he built the great machines
that felled a heinous tyrant

He spoke window shades as winder shades
He laughed hearty with coughing
His pants rose high on his waist
like a tall oak tree
He walked a little stooped

I don't know what if his I have
inherited or not,
besides memories
But I console myself that I have those,
because they deserted him in the end

I console myself that I contain
a place, bright with the static, unchanging
glory of childhood
where he is a hale old man
where he chases us with teeth
where he laughs and laughs
and two little tulips sit on his knees
growing in the garden
he planted all his life with us.