Spoonful: A Gathering of Stone Soup Poets

An extension of Cambridge's Stone Soup Poetry Venue.

Poem by Erin Reardon

"Tree of Life" by James Conant

When I Was

When I was rapt
The orange color
A tiger
A lily tragedy in my sky
Scent of a night orchid
I left to die
Under a wrought iron sunset

When I was young
Skipping rope
In the backyard
Seeking attention
From an old man in a fedora
Feeding pigeons
Daddy dear, you couldn't hear me
Or my soul
While it was bleeding anti-Christ
And devil moon

When I was cruel
I kicked you little boys down
With my sailor boots
And my Bible belt
I said I'd trade you a dead dog's eye
For a peanut butter blow job
Now look where it's got me

Who were you?
Captors of thought
My imagination
And where have you gone?

When I was malignant
Sweaty in a bathtub
Filled with ice
You tried to shake my fever out of me
I stared

When I was afraid
The bats were circling
Round and round the graveyard
They go
I'd forgotten how to cry
So you never could hear me
Only the crackle of the dead leaves

Where were you?
When his shadow fell behind
When I tasted the dirt he was buried in
And where have you gone?