Poetry by Tracy L Duffy

      Justin Kern CC




​Lifeline

There are holes that are spaces
in my lifeline
not remembered, Flicker by me
make TV reruns first time episodes
of comprehension. Surely
I was there.
Birthday cards saved 
photos match each face
but some things in my lifeline
are out of place.

Were they that yellowed and stained
that I chose to ignore, to neglect.
Are there chemicals floating wildly 
in my brain? Just too little pleasure
and such a lot of pain
that I forgot the place. Forgot the name.

Pinch me in the here and now
inking my soul with lasting impressions
outline dimensions with embroidered 
colors. Filling holes of lifetime space
so decades from now, I may
recognize my own face.





Remover

Aunt Sarah wiled away her thinking cap
Molly twisted away her hair
Mama worked the polish from her nails
and I just cried my mascara off

Betty walked away her soles
Meagan screamed her larynx out
Children just wore Nana out
and I just cried my mascara off

Nancy burned her lungs away
Susan's hair would not stay curled
It made her drink most every day
and I just cried my mascara off

Sister Ellen ate and ate to burst
Cousin Ann starved for affection
Brother Ed loved Bob, to death
And I just cried my mascara off





Things We Did Not Know

Of the things we didn’t know, I’m thankful
that I didn’t intentionally hurt someone or myself.
It must have been that my brother did have remorse 
Or that the sour taste was left in his mouth long enough
to shoot right through it. If in 1990 I could have reached him 
when this place was green about mental health, I would have
thanked him for sparing everyone else of their life. Not so 
as our minds went on and on and on, triggered forever
by loud pops. Car engine backfiring. Fireworks
Neighbor patio screen door slamming
A falling tree limb. The train over the tracks.
A horn blast from the shipyard.

Of the things I have known, I would’ve shared the soothing bird sounds
And professionals would have let Paul know he could be good
be his own person, not a ‘junior’. Not a carrier of mind disease.
I would have looked to the calming clouds and trees with my brother.
I would have shared the soothing sounds of the birds with my brother.

Of the things we now know are good, of what we didn’t know then –
our aunt and uncle never married and never ended up in hell for it
that girls can ride horses and bicycles
that boys can wear pink, even lavender
that our mom could get extremely ill
And because we believed in the man in the moon, we were easily
convinced that one of the gumball charms on my dad’s black felt
beanie cap, was in fact, from the man himself.
And Dad would say he was Indian because his skin was burnt red
from nailing roofs on - all day, all lifetime

that watermelon seeds would grow in our tummies
that god was good and everywhere
and of course, we all knew where babies came from.

The one thing they may have gotten right
Is that sugar rots the teeth and Jesus loves, loved us all
A mighty friend with no super powers.
Our teachers would sort it all out for us
As we could love back or hate back
and that was all we knew how to do.

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Tracy writes poetry to keep the wheels from spinning off the tracks. She is taking a gap year from a lifetime of work, mostly in medical cosmetology, and earned a BS in Organizational Management while raising a family. Published in Changes, The Magazine for Personal Growth; Bacopa, Writers Alliance of Gainesville; P’AN KU, The BCC Student Literary/Arts Magazine; Tiny Seed Literary Journal; Open Door Magazine Labyrinth.
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