4 Selections by Erin McGovern

Grieving Minds

Yesterday I thought of you.
As I looked in the mirror and saw
half of me gone, reflecting nothing more 
than a walking memorial.
I’ll put on my mascara like I always do.
                     At least I have your eyes.  

 Tonight, I drive home in silence. 
And swear I smell your cigarettes’
burning embers turned to ash. 
And suddenly, your song is playing.
                       Tonight the world keeps spinning.
Itching for cheap tricks, 
scratching for solitude. 

Tomorrow tears will streak my cheeks, 
And I’ll choke them down one by one
before I swim in my sorrow.
Because if comfort lies in memories, 
Then grief lies in love.
                       And it was a privilege to love you. 

 I missed you loudly today, and silent the next. 

 

 

If October Could Speak

To know a person is like knowing the weather
on Halloween in Minnesota.
                                  Unpredictable, yet invigorating.
only your cold is a fall morning: daring to change, 
and your warm is the afternoon: golden hour crisp,
but comforting none the less.
Its like saying            “I’m not afraid of the dark”
yet keeping the lights lit while telling scary stories. 

How sweet it is to remember your candied smile,
the “what if’s” haunt the autumn air. 
But when the house of horrors is over,
the trick or treaters go home
And the October wind settles,
Let our masks fall and make your way back 
to carve our initials in the pumpkin, 
light the candle. 
Let it burn into November. 

People ask why I’m drawn to the coldest of months. 
That I’m crazy for liking the bitter of seasons.
           But if October could feel,
It would draw to me too,
Much like I find myself drawn to you.  

And like the leaves on the trees, despite stubborn attempts
In every scenario, I fall again.  

 

 

Find Me Out

How hollow do I have to be 
For you to want to see me?
I’ll spill my guts
mend what’s left
bare my bones 
cover the rest
Hide my love 
till it’s used for good 
Unleash it all if you understood.
Everything and nothing all at once.
Yet too scared to confront
All of me.
Good, bad, and ugly,
Served up on a dinner plate.
Eat my heart out, why don’t you?  

 

 

Homesick 

The stoic Watertown looms 
over the house that once bloomed with greenery, 
Now barricaded by dogs and dead shrubs. 
The same place I snuck onto the roof 
With the help of a makeshift ladder,
Where I watched the stars and sun fight for their spot in the sky. 

Close your eyes and listen 
to the tune of annoyance by newcomers.
How much dread lies in the sound of a train whistle
one that once shook our china cabinet,
the same one that lulled me to sleep.  

The path to the park once stood a tunnel slide
graffitied in person and my memory. 
Further, you’ll find a tree.
Rooted between baseball fields sits 
my solace spot. 
Beyond the secret sidewalks traveled by foot 
I waddled down like the ducks to the pond.  

Above all, the stoic Watertown stands still 
What was once too big to see at a glance
Now fits in the palm of my hand.  

Have I traveled that far from home?
Or do things change before my eyes?