Poetry by Shelly Reed Thieman

      Nicholas Erwin CC




Transtemporal Addiction                                                                 
       in memory of my father
                                                      
I dare to go back, park in the decrepit 
driveway of my childhood dwelling.
The humidity is thick as motor 
oil. Out back, the garage door
is unlocked. I allow myself entry.
His vacant car stall harbors 
the balm of must and gasoline.
 
I enter the basement, climb 
the dark staircase. Steps three, 
seven and nine still complain. 
I tiptoe through the kitchen
into the knotty pine-paneled 
family room. He’s on the sofa 
in his bleach scented undershirt, 
khaki-pant legs stretched, ankles 
entangled, Popular Mechanics
spread on the mountain 
range of chest.
 
His blue eyes sparkle 
like St. George crystal, his salted 
hair full as last night’s moon. 
My father watches an episode
of The Six Million Dollar Man
on the Magnavox, our retriever
asleep at his bare feet.
 
I have taught myself to lay
on the newly carpeted floor 
in this low-lit gathering space 
so anonymously on Sunday 
evenings, not one soul notices. 
Mother plays Dean Martin records
while she irons in the sewing room,
my sister whispers on the party 
line to a friend about tampons.
The parakeet cat calls.

I go out back through the gate,
down the hill to Turtle Creek. 
A girl of fourteen admires stars 
in the jewelry box of summer
constellations. I walk in front 
of her, study the green eyes
haloed in gold. We listen to frog
song peak like meringue.
 
I want to warn her it will all vanish,
the pets and people in the rooms,
the music, the creek itself, but
I cannot bear it, so I hold my own
hand, head back to the safety 
of the newly carpeted room 
 
where my father has nodded off,
never to wake again
outside of this poem.
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Shelly Reed Thieman is a poet, a dreamer, and a friend. She facilitates two monthly poetry workshops groups in central Iowa. Her work is heavily influenced by the discipline of haiku and the natural world. A quiet professor of resilience, Shelly believes she could grow in grow in rocky dolomite soil.
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