“Trouble in the Turning Time” by Shaun Anthony McMichael
Trouble in the Turning Time
When I think like this, we are in trouble:
I loved you so much, Baby Boy,
blue doggie-shaped donut pillow propping up your fishbowl-heavy head
as your eyes swam over the fuzzy world of light and sound.
All awe, all wonder-coo. All fillable need. Full of promise,
full of food I steamed and served warm for you. All before
your mind went down its zany trail.
I loved you so much. We are in trouble
when I think like this because, though you’ve changed,
you’re still here. The light of your candle remains
mine to tend in the turning time.
When I think like this, we are in trouble:
I loved you so much, Sweet Girl,
my college sweet. A heart swifting far ahead of me on your rose-
colored bike in your love-colored shorts over your heart-
shaped rump. Through bends and reeds, letting me pursue
in the ways I had wanted but had always been too scared to try.
All canny, cherry-nibble, and comely. A roving beach comb
and blossom-brush to a bower. Trist in a gesture. Come.
Come near. Come clean, then lie. All before
the guitar string inside you sang
of pain.
I loved you so much. We are in trouble
when I think like this because, though you’ve changed,
you’re still here. The light of your candle remains
mine to tend in the turning time.
When I think like this, we are in trouble:
I loved you so much, Dark Friend,
Shadow Side. Whimsy-fiend of my wunderkind mind. My writing,
my limning of phantom shapes and impressions pressing
against my days, a prow upon the waves. My way of seeing, my way-finder
toward beings I never could have hoped to meet. And the panic-glee,
the witch-kindle of self-losing in language’s sea. All a sundering
inside where you find me.
More me than ever. All before
the years and years of rejection.
I loved you so much. We are in trouble
when I think like this because, though you’ve changed,
you’re still here. The light in your lines remains
mine to tend in the turning time.
Shaun Anthony McMichael
Since 2007, Shaun Anthony McMichael has taught writing to students from around the world, in classrooms, juvenile detention halls, mental health treatment centers, and homeless youth drop-in spots throughout the Seattle area. Over 90 of his poems, short stories, and reviews have appeared in literary magazines, online, and in print, including the forthcoming short story collection, The Wild Familiar (CJ Press, 2024). He lives in Seattle with his wife and son. Anxiety and depression, neurodivergence, and chronic pain intersect daily with his family life. Visit him at his website shaunanthonymcmichael.com.
Headshot: Robert Forehand
Photo Credit: Staff