Innocence

My son tells me he loves me
out of the blue, and
of his own accord and time.
He is the greatest gift.

I respect and love his
individual personality
and am blessed to be
in a position to help
protect his wellness.

Love is in the breath
of a child and in
their sleeping trust
of a truthful parent.

-M. Taggart

Poem up on Ephemeral Elegies

Yes! I’m thrilled to share that my poem, Rain, has found a home with Ephemeral Elegies.

Rain by M. Taggart

Here’s a snippet, but please take a moment to read the full poem via the link below:

I don’t write about flowers
or love, or the embrace of a lover
because so many
do this so wonderfully
that I would rather read
their version of beauty
than replay mine.

Rain by M. Taggart

I especially enjoy Ephemeral Elegies niche found on the about page,

“Welcome to Ephemeral Elegies – the home for poems about emotional experiences. Inspired by confessional poets such as Anne Sexton and Sylvia Plath, we invite submissions about personal experiences and reflections. Confessional poetry can be a great catharsis for a poet, and we want to support you on your journey of self-discovery, growth, and healing..”

I felt at home when reading this and didn’t hesitate to submit.

Enjoy, and have a great day.

Matt

 

Poem

I haven’t seen him since 2016
This is us

Wrote a story about him
He’s in the middle
I’m on the right
Phil is on the left

Love the man
He always said
We got to try everything once

That was then
I wonder about that now

 

 

this is us

poem- love thy Lion

The dryer is on.
I just put the bed sheets in.

I’m in my office
thinking about Gavin,
and listening to the soft
mumbling of the dryer.
The cat is on the floor,
next to my chair,
looking for attention.

Outside, I can hear the wind,
it’s not strong, not today,
but it’s there and I can see it
gently pushing the cold winter
tree branches.

Soon, I’ll leave my office,
walk down to the end of our driveway,
and wait.

I’ll kick at the ice and snow
until the bus arrives.
The school bus doors will open
and the familiar whooshing sound
will pass through me
as I climb the bus stairs
to gather my four-year-old heart.

He’ll be buckled into the seat,
just in back of the bus driver,
and I’ll say, “Hi, Gavin. It’s time
to get off the bus.”

He’ll reply, “I’m not Gavin.”
“Then, who are you today?”
“I’m king of the jungle. I’m a Lion.”
“Well hello, Lion. Let’s go work on your puzzle.”
“OK, but, I’m a Lion.”

Yes, you are.
And always will be.

-M. Taggart

poem

Try to think why you know it,
why you feel it,
why you remember.
A piece of paper has
something about none of this
and a little of you finds more of
nothing than a paper.

-M. Taggart

(Love you Gavin. You were in my office asking me to not break your new snake while I wrote this.) 1/16/20

Life, Blood & Charles Bukowski

I got the dreaded call from Gavin’s school today. He’s the youngest in the entire school. His teacher told us that he’s very smart, has an incredible vocabulary, and is brave.

“Hello is this, Matt? Gavin has been in the nurses office for about an hour. He’s OK, but he did bite his tongue and it won’t stop bleeding.”

While on the way to the ER, Gavin, fell asleep. I watched him in my rear view mirror knowing blood was filling his mouth. Eventually I could hear the blood interfering with his breathing. I asked him to wake up and swallow. He did, while half asleep, swallow the blood.

I parked outside the ER and grabbed paper towel. I reached back toward Gavin. I woke him up, with the paper towel ready to catch the blood. It took a moment for him to wake, but when he did, he wore a worried look and I could see he was active with his tongue inside his mouth. “It’s OK, just spit it into this.” Gavin opened his mouth and a clot was on top of his tongue. He spit the clot, along with more blood, into the paper towel.

He never once cried.

The ER doctors opted not to cauterize the laceration. They didn’t want to cause Gavin trauma. Megan held ice to his tongue all evening and finally the bleeding stopped.

And for some reason unknown to me, Gavin bounced his way up to ‘Alexa’ our digital-voice friend whom many of you might also have and said, “Alexa, play Charles Bukowski.”

Seems Gavin will be just fine. But I’m not.

-Matt