I was to be sealed to Mother & David,
only to be sealed to another man someday.
We were linked not individually by God,
but as units,
linked to one another by His authority.
I hadn’t been touched by an angel,
but by earthly messengers,
if not their message.
Yet, was it not that message
that had shaped them
into the angels they were?
Mother prayed that God would keep Caitlin
Alive long enough to accept the gospel,
& my heart was joyful,
for she would live forever,
as Mother’s mustard seed faith
filled an entire jar.
My life could be seen in terms of insurance:
Mother was term life,
having expired long ago,
I would pay for him my entire life.
We stood on the outside,
sharing a life
while witnessing a death.
Our reflections looked like
found in one another.
Daly Dubble, in his double-breasted monkey suit,
was doing double-duty at the Do Drop Out,
when along came a pair of twins with their Double Ds,
on a double date with their body doubles,
making dubious Daly think he was having double vision.
Hitching up his double chin,
he approached them on the double,
bearing double scotches
& telling them (with a double wink) that
“A little double do ya.”
Her poetic license had no expiration date,
for she went around putting line breaks
where she thought they should be,
inserting the Oxford comma wherever she went,
omitting needless words,
for just as brevity was literary minimalism,
clarity was literary purity.
When she brainstormed,
her fingers were like lightning
across the keyboard,
her words like thunder
as she hammered away at a clump of words
to create a viable human-interest story.
It was reading, writing, & arithmetic
in grammar school,
academics, arts, & athletics
Sara Lee Storey excelled in the arts,
writing about the academics,
& editing the words of those
who wrote about athletics.
I grieved for the father who had never been lost to me at all—the father I was just now finding, only to lose him all over again.
My mother had not charmed a snake, but rather, she’d beguiled an Eve in male form—a man who’d taken a bite of the apple that hadn’t given him knowledge, but rather, diminished it.
For the first time in my life, I prayed for my father to wake up & save Mother from David, so he would be saved for me.
A Church talk had freed my mother from the guilt she carried over my father’s attempted suicide, even as it would free my father from the medical technology that had kept him in limbo.
For neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, could separate David from Mother, save Mother herself.
Into my father’s ear, I whispered for him to accept the gospel in the next life, so that David would be dethroned as Mother’s eternal companion.
As my father was taken off life support, I wondered if his soul was finally leaving his body, having been imprisoned in 13 years of solitude.
I would learn that my mother had visited my father in the hospital until David had rescued her from a life of single motherhood & lonely widowhood.
Children of the Blue and the Gray
He was a blue-blooded Yankee,
she, a red-blooded American.
He spoke like an Ivy Leaguer,
specifically Yale Law
& Harvard Business;
she spoke in the colloquialisms
& soft consonants of Deep South Jaw-juh.
They just couldn’t find common ground–
he, with his clipped Northern accent
& she, with her Southern drawl–
but when they got all mixed-up,
their hearts turned to purple prose
& they found uncommonly fertile ground.
Sham & Wow were an odd couple,
Sham, the messy one,
Wow, the neat one,
they were the perfect oddity
that was a commodity,
for without the Wow,
Sham was a fraud,
& without the Sham,
Wow was just a common,
He was Generation X,
she, Generation Y.
Though algebra wasn’t her thing,
she knew enough to know that
this x+y was the solution,
not the problem.
Lil’s passion was dumbbells & barbells,
Lily’s, poetics & texts of the literary kind,
but they were the best of friends—
until they shared a love for a thing called Chad,
who was as well-muscled as he was eggheaded.
When 2 sets of scratches ended up on his back,
that’s when the cat nipping turned into a
no-nails-barred cat fight.
I’d idolized David,
for I’d been as Mary Magdalene—
seeing my salvation in the form
of a man who spoke not in parables
of the everyday man,
but in the philosophies of the enlightened man.
Like most women,
I blamed the woman—
for her adulterous affair
with the man I loved.
She was the seducer,
the charmed participant
under her hypnosis.
For Christians, the Bible was the once upon a time,
the happily ever after.
For Mormons, it was only the story of God’s reign as God,
the story of this earth—the planet He had created,
a planet that belonged to him only because He had earned it.
The words of this modern Prophet with the middle initial
words that had become like newsprint
left on the sidewalk in the rain.
While he lived,
my father had been a stranger to me,
but as he lay dying,
& I beheld my co-creator;
I experienced an intimacy for him,
if not with him,
for the first time.