A Man’s Demons

October 2020 | poetry

My stepfather could be kind

when his hidden demons

did not plague decisions I discerned.

A child can only analyze actions,

shadows reflecting the body,

motions to mimic, wrestling

with the waves causing callous

repercussions, creating chameleon

reactions from what my teen-vision

saw. I observed a man whose hands

painted mastery, Michelangelo’s student

touching his canvas, one could feel

a man’s face. I observed a man

whose voice was soulful enough,

a stranger debating marriage would

buy a wedding ring. I observed

when his hands weren’t moving,

when the theater was empty, echoes

rose of tales he kept to himself. Voices

from the demons that plagued him

gave him his vices, filling glasses,

rising temper, spreading anger,

drinking, puffing, smoking, choking

a life, stagnating work promotions,

taking shallow steps towards goals,

a peeled banana softened, blackened,

losing firm grounding around himself.

Maybe the pressure of military life

and death darkened visions from friends

never forgotten. Maybe the pressure

of social behaviors of blended family

caused misery. Maybe the pressure—

coming to his hometown after two-decades,

finding old friends, riding the same street

corners and blocks became his framework

to live. Maybe. I still may love him; his

decisions left my mother in an unmarked grave.

Mervyn R Seivwright

Mervyn R. Seivwright has appeared or has forthcoming published works in AGNI Literary Magazine, The Trinity Review, African American Review, Santa Fe Literary Review, Montana Mouthful Literary Magazine, iō Literary Journal, The Stirling Spoon, The Scribe Literary Journal, Flights Literary Journal, Rigorous Magazine, Prometheus Dreaming Cultural Journal, and Toho Journal. He has received recognition as Second-Runner-Up for Mount Island’s Lucy Terry Prince poetry contest, a Semi-Finalist for the Midwest Review’s Poetry Contest, Z Publishing’s Kentucky’s Best Emerging Poets 2019, and has a poem commissioned by the British Museum, Ipswich, United Kingdom. Mervyn holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Spalding University, Louisville KY. He is from Jamaican heritage, born in London, England while he currently lives in Schopp, Germany.

A Bird that Cannot Fly

October 2020 | poetry

As hollow dread overtakes dawn –

I am imprisoned in my bed.

Sleeplessness of despair –

a bird that cannot fly.

Weighted down by wetted feathers of indecision,

daylight falters.

Darkness remains the dictator of the hour,

commanding black clouds.

Pain tells my story, oh so well!

Screaming alarm calls my name,

 it is for naught!

Chained to my fears by an affliction that will not cease.

It is only the beginning,

yet I want this day to end.

To fly my nest

 and soar beyond imagination once more.

Ann Christine Tabaka

Ann Christine Tabaka was nominated for the 2017 Pushcart Prize in Poetry, has been internationally published, and won poetry awards from numerous publications. She is the author of 9 poetry books. She has recently been published in several micro-fiction anthologies and short story publications. Christine lives in Delaware, USA. She loves gardening and cooking. Chris lives with her husband and three cats. Her most recent credits are: Burningword Literary Journal; Muddy River Poetry Review; The Write Connection; Ethos Literary Journal, North of Oxford, Pomona Valley Review, Page & Spine, West Texas Literary Review, The Hungry Chimera, Sheila-Na-Gig, Foliate Oak Review, Better Than Starbucks!, The Write Launch, The Stray Branch, The McKinley Review, Fourth & Sycamore. Website: https://annchristinetabaka.com