In agreement with nature,
children were born in parents’ beds
on the sperm-stained mattresses.
They farmed and hunted,
gathered around the fireplace
during long winter evenings,
looking through a box of old pictures,
reading out Grandpa’s longhand diaries.
They married neighbors,
started families in their twenties.
They took their last breath in the bed
where they took their first.
The Bible, goblins, and furniture
stayed undisturbed for centuries
under the same roof.
Baby boomers introduced a new routine,
being born in hospitals by C-section,
driven to nursing homes
to take their last breath,
emotionally crushed,
confused and upset,
caged in safe hospital beds,
not feeling special anymore
because of their high intelligence.
Their houses and furniture
are sold to young overachievers;
the yellowish pictures and longhand diaries
end up donated to secondhand stores.
The mournful goblins hang themselves in the attic
on rotten shoestrings.
The impassive Blue Ridge Mountains
overlook the young overachievers’ houses.
Lacking talent for idle chattering,
they have nothing to offer.
© Helen Kanevsky, 2016
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| A Huntsman and Dogs by Winslow Homer from the William L. Elkins Collection in the Philadelphia Museum of Art from Wikimedia Commons |
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