Alison Moncrieff's poetry has appeared in Bay Area Generations, The East Bay Review, Entropy, and Rivet Journal. Her chapbook Cherrystem was published by Finishing Line Press in May, 2017. Alison lives, writes, paints, and tends to chickens & children in Oakland, Ca. Visit her website at alisonmoncrieff.com, and follow her painting on Instagram @alimoncrieffpaints.
don draper checks the window
it’s how we were introduced
again and again
and again, before he leaves the meeting.
don draper checks the window
in case he needs to fall from grace.
it’s a quick & natural motion, ancient as forests
& not a really a big deal.
a thing you see driving through to somewhere:
pine tree, telephone pole, an unremarkable bird,
nothing so distinct
as suicidal ideation.
if you fall, you fall
to the rules & to the other rules,
to all the smiling windshields,
their solid kindnesses, their kitchen table love,
the way their reflections shatter, so orderly
to reconstitute as the immaculate heart of your dead mom,
to the way your past is human & hard.
maybe you'd meet her down there
with the other mothers and you could talk.
Mother, obsess me back to teen age.
Mother, let my brother outlive my rejection.
Mother, be there when i died.
Mother, stop putting your shame on me.
Mother, be free.
Mother, be at the bottom of freedom.
Mother, see my progress.
Mother, champion my reinvention.
Mother, hold me before you die.
Mother, scroll down hard.
in motherhood i have found myself to be most like others.
on a good day i can see the infant in other people and treat them well.
if you stay, you jump. if you go, you call to say goodbye.
don’t you know, don draper, that any place is heaven & hell?