of the word ‘normal’
Amy Gerstler teases at me from the lines of her poem this morning
tyranny
I think I like that word but
normal
what is that
exactly?
My normal speaks to stories and places and populations and environments not yet being
yet in my head living so real
so alive and vibrant -sometimes
in my so-much-alone time
I can feel their breath on my cheek and hear their voice in my ear
and even
when it’s been very many long and busy and ‘successful’ days
when people who do exist and can actually really oh so normally speak into my ear
and on occasion brush my cheek even -on these days they can be sometimes more alive
and more real and more persistent
present
tugging at my hem
than that hand that sweeps the smudge of paint or dirt or wonder from my face