My whole world headlong, turned
upside down, rolled over in the clover
with that first gardenia pinned
by his hands to my shiny dress.
We head out the door, away from
all I’d been– horse girl and acrobat,
into the wide seat of his parents’ car.
Not nearly adult in sport coat and tie,
handsome like one of the Beatles, he
drives us into the California night.
Like the tide I slide closer to his fingers,
the wheel, his lips, chest, body, soul.
That afternoon in front of the mirror,
only fifteen and already agonizing,
whittling away at anything that meant me,
I waned, scant like the Hunger moon.
We spin off toward my future, a future
of self-shunning and want. Wanting
those boys I poured my essential into
their everything until running on empty.
Yet somehow I garnered a thing or two.
And as it is now, just about over all that
self-closure, I’ve turned a corner and
wouldn’t you know, find you, there
from the first, everything included.
And you ask me to love only that, that is–
everything, including me, everything
in the all in all and all that as well.
And just like the sunset which widens
into breathtaking, I gladly ride into it.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Carol Griffin writes poetry to explore life circumstance, both inner and outer. She is fascinated with how poems can transform us. She writes with humor, depth and love about nature, family, and self. Her poems delve into what it means to be human and our potential to move toward peace. Interested in poetic form since memorizing Keats and Byron at 13, Carol finds challenge and pleasure in form. Her poems have been published in the Marin Poetry Center Anthology since 2010.