Premonitions

You were always

one step ahead—

leaping from your

seat before the puck

had hit the twine;

remarking it’s delish

before the food was

on your tongue;

laughing before the

punch line’s been

delivered.

You tell me that

your mother pushed

you through the birth

canal, 15 seconds

in front of what

should have been—

that she didn’t

survive the pain

it put her through,

gasping her final

breath before she even

held you close;

and now she lives

vicariously

through your senses,

in that limbo

beyond the reach

of the rest of us,

pleading that you

stomp upon the brake,

a car to run the red,

furl up your

umbrella, it's the perfect

lightning rod,

forego the juicy

meatball on your plate,

it’ll stick in your

trachea—choking like

the pitcher on the mound—

runners on 2nd & 3rd,

skittishly tossing

a pitch

across the plate,

without the speed &

drop of success,

belted over the fence

into the ocean,

to float upon the waves

like a beat-up

warning buoy,

whispering turn

back while you can

to a boat about to

beach itself on rocks,

a mother & child aboard,

thinking they’re having

the time of their marvelous

lives.

Andreas Gripp

May 15, 2025

RF Image