ENGL 304 Memory Poem #2
Five Year Old
I kissed the western wall of my first bedroom
the day Mom told me we were moving away.
My womb outside of the womb, moving
my world inside of the world, away.
My imagination, my playground, my lost and my found:
moving away from home, a faint and fading memory.
The plaster pigment absorbed my pressing lips against its face,
pulling the overripe scarlet color off my mouth.
Two semi-circles separated into familiar lines
Drawing my smile, smiling at me,
Smiling at me.
I sat beneath the sun-kissed surface of the wall
set between copper door hinges and The Wizard of Oz poster
that sounded aloud, my mother’s voice, breezed in through the open
window and wrapped its familiar phrase around me:
Everything I need to know I learned from the Wizard of Oz.
The sound of fury shook my sanctuary
when my mother stormed inside and saw the fresh stain,
red as crime lips scraping the surface of a showcase wall.
Charged and convicted of vandalism,
I sat in time out turned towards the blank face of a lipless wall
as my mother drenched my first metaphor in Windex
wiping my kiss away until the wall was empty of me
and as good as new: pristine, presentable and for sale.