Ode For The Girls Just Across The Border

By 2001, around 250 Mexican women's bodies had been left near the Texas/Mexican border. This poem is of this horrific tragedy...and so close to US soil. Certainly, the numbers are far greater today, November 2008. Where are we America?

I don’ wanna be your trail dog anymore,
Followin’ all behind you with my ears
Up high, held back. I don’t wanna see

How it is you know, which girls will sway,
Promenade, dosee-doe, Whiles-you
Shakes it all off, like sweat upon the page.

It’s got you blind, choked-up and - suffoca-ting,
Got you-self roped-up, cooped-up ‘n stiff
From so much cowering, so much blind rage.

Ya got the posse goin’ ‘round, rollin’ by,
Handin’ out dope, prayin’ for someone,
Whose seen ‘em down here for sho’.

Better duck back inside, boy, better go boy,
Run ‘n hide, boy, jist in case they comes back
By here with a shovel and a rope.

Isn’t it dangerous for you gittin paid
Fo’ sellin’ your eyes, yo’ han-shake,
Yore, ‘I love you, truly,’ wave?

Did ya kiss her once? Say, did ya call
Her all your own, then, convince her
There’s no way of ever goin’ home?

We all know that part in-the script’s
Been scraped away. After all, that’s them
Over there in that there shallow grave.

The dirt’s gown hard, cold, pale green
Where the fiber of her skirts lay –
Emancipates the rain.

Where the fiber of her skirts emancipate the rain.

-ann klein/Tif Sp
-07.19.06

http://www.womensenews.org/article.cfm/dyn/aid/763/context/archive

http://www.casa-amiga.org/

Gone

He left us when
We were young.
He came back, wanting
To see us.
I was scared.
I didn’t wanna see him.
He acted like he cared.
Why’d he come back?
Did he come back for us?
Or for the publicity?

I don’t wanna see him.
I don’t really care.
He never really loved
My mom.
And…most of all, he
Never cared

O Gourd
07.23.06

Fighting For Democracy

basics of draft
parts added - parts removed:
We were laughing heartily, when my pool stick flipped out, spiking a ball high into the air.
Walking inside our small apartment home, I began, I cannot exactly understand your meaning.
Coffee brewed nearby, and I handed over one soft caress – another cup full for him.
He played a game of cards on the nearby table, I stole the lamp for me.
Soon, he got down the leash in the kitchen, next to the broom, and took the dog for a hike.
The cinders fell to the inside of my worn out, holy shoes, my bag fell down beside my leg. Panicing to see the earth shake.
-ann klein/07.22.06

Whispers

Whisper at my doorway,
And I’ll understand.
Say hello as you close
Your eyes at night, and
I am by your side.

Buy a newspaper tomorrow.
Open up the mysteries of life.
It’s all the same.
I remember the smell of you.
The mystery’s in the game.

Watch a foreign movie on TV.
Visit the ballet with your friends.
Somewhere between the beginning
And the end, you’ll hear the
Butterfly in your heart.
Hello. It’s me.

Say hello to anybody.
Walk in cool September rains,
Make a masterpiece for
Everyone to see. I will always
Be stepping softly,
So, you’ll know it’s me.

Wherever you are; whatever
You are doing, it’s okay.
As long as you are happy and safe,
It’s okay with me.
It’s okay with me.

Ann Klein
07.21.06

Where There Is Fear...

May be the Hezbollah as well as others do not realize one fact, which is; the world stood by while millions of Jewish people were killed in a most gruesome method. I do not appreciate warring people going around spreading hatred. Not at all. However, I do not think a person can understand what it means to be Jewish and live in constant wonder about whether there will be another Holocaust or not. I know people who believe the Jewish people living everywhere were, at one time, cowards and allowed themselves to be murdered during the Third Reiche. I hope fighting will soon stop between the Lebonese and the Israelis. Moreover, I hope both parties will begin to really understand what their warring means for the rest of us who live in this world.

It's kinda strange...

I've noticed something about men and me. Men don't give things to me, gifts and things like that. It's never happened. Oh, may be a stick of incense or when I'm broke, some food for the apartment. I began to think, that I just seem like one of the guys and accepted this attitude in that way. So, I get upset with men later, when they treat me like a woman, meaning they cut me out of conversation or smile like I'm a baby if I have an idea in my head. May be they get angry to find out I have an opinion, things like that.

It doesn't really seem fair. Ya know? It's been a struggle getting along in this life for this reason. I began to think it was an economic thing, like she's not well-off, so what does she need with presents - just flirt and may be get some play, then, take off and do your own thing. But, I then noticed, women with less money than me are given gifts.

I'm happy in being who I am. But, this one area of my life is pretty much ruling my social life. I've spent so much of my time walking this earth being treated this way. May be there is a philosophy for women like me. I doubt the rationale would be consistent with how I am treated by men, however. So, I kinda gave in to men. But, it's an isolation that I haven't asked for, and I don't like it much.

-ann klein
-07.15.06

I'm Calling

I’m calling.
I’m calling, God.
I want to go home.

If I had one,
I would go to it.
But, you know I don’t.

So,
I want to go home now.
But, I can’t.

I know you are trying
To build me a stone from
The pieces of me home
All scattered about.

I’m calling, God .
I thought if I waited,
You would find me.

I’ve waited, and I’ll wait
Some more. What’s a few
More days, weeks or years?

Please, come down or
Send someone, who can tell
Me, “It’s okay to have no
Mother or dad, no grandfolks,
Aunties, cousins, uncles, brothers,
Sisters or anyone like that.”

Ann Klein
07.13.06

MY MONTREAL

The moonlite, it is coming to me,
Yet, it is the middle of the afternoon.
Where is the setting sun to be placed
Among these restless sailors?
Vagrancy surely will be the answer to
Their standing ‘round in mid-flite.
I hear such calling now from those higher
Places.
Where will we put in to rest with no
Harbour to be found, they ask of me
In words unspoken, only realized
Between the lead of the glass-stained
Hearts inside each sailor, one and all?
The moonlite, it spoke to me in answer
Soft and low, I will be baptized, buried
Deep in the salted waters, so do not feel
Alone. And…each time I remind you with
Tears upon your face, try not to listen, to
Wander off to far-away scenes of
Unfamiliar places, where tigers devour
And animals teach alphabetically.
Instead, remember me, the moonlite, and
How one bright night I came for you and
You came for me.

Ann Klein
07.10.06

pic donated by Oleksandr. http://cherolex.blogspot.com

Atmospheric Change

How many teardrops
Fell because of you?
I can count one, two.
One continuing giant
Chain of hate,
Two, the absent clearing,
Where there is no safe place,
No safe state.

Formal docks, inside me.
I can feel the rope.
Until you sat down beside me,
I was fortunate and filled with
Hope.

And, with each battle scare,
With every blessed, future
Memory, I bleed a little longer,
I breathe a little more.

Your cancer didn’t eat me,
Only your shabby little mind,
Natural shambles, if you please,
The only thing, the only thing…
Thing you give to anyone
for me.

The girls and boys,
My toys to them you
Sold. And…one, two,
I ‘m counting; Absent
where there was…
where there was my
Joy, my hope.

And everyday,
I bleed a little faster,
I breathe a little longer.
This much I know.

It used to make me laugh,
When you said my name to me,
“You Jew-a, you Jew-a!
I hate your pretty face.”

And, with every battle scare,
With every wretched memory,
I bleed a little faster,
I breathe a little longer.
Come on now ‘an watch,
Watch along with me.

I’m counting on you
To come along with me;
Two absent clearings,
Where there is no place today.

Now, you are incredible,
Irreplaceable.
Who shall I be today?
“You Jew-a, you-a,”
You said just only yesterday.

I pulled the rope
That was inside me.
I threw it in your face.
I’m laughing once for me.
And,
One, two. I’m counting
On atmospheric change.

I am that one, that
Pretty, pretty face.
I am the soprano,
Furthermore, the base.
You will be the replica
Of someone’s missing pace.

Of conflict, confident I am.
The rope has been replaced
With something you’d never
Guess, that I could create,
Look at me! I’m counting.

I’m counting,
Holding out for when
I will be in that safe place.
Chase me one more time.
Chase me down the road.
Chase me two times.
I’m counting.

I’m counting all the lies
It takes to catch one
Glimpse of me.
You padded me with nothing,
With nothing but mistakes.
So many that my heart
Is scalding. It’s scalding in
That lake.

That lake where your
Future memories will always be,
Will always be a rocket,
Launching pain;
Where gentle, tender
Moments are only a refrain.

And, now, I breathe a little faster,
I bleed a little more.
And, you’re trying once again,
You’re trying once again
To kick me in the face.

Hello!
You’re downrutter.
I’m counting.
I’m counting.
Come along and count with me.
Hi! I’m here now.
I’m above the waves.

-ann klein
-03.17.06
-07.07.06

At What Price

You said
You never think of me;
That a love like ours is
Unheard of;
That I was drunk;
That I’m not petite;
That I’m too white.

I know this, but I love to
Imagine you like me,
That you want me, and
You are planning
For the time when
We will be together
And become as one.

You said you will
Always be alone;
That I should stay away
From you, but I wonder
How it can be, that you
Are crawling to me in all
Your manhood and still
Saying this.

When I see you around,
You are flirting with some
Small framed beauty,
A different one each week.
I hope that you are happy.

In time and in your traveling,
When you do think of me,
Consider the realm, the sphere
Of contentment you possess.
And, if your desire for
Love outweighs your chest,
Look to yourself and confess.
Ask yourself if there is something
More.

There is nothing worse
Than being alone –
On the inside.

Ann Klein
08.99

Running Fast

I wrote to you my life’s whole story,
‘Cuz that day you wore the coat
Of truth, honor, thrown in
The valor of peace and giving.

Now, I just want to live, live and
Believe I can run away from the decay,
The hate your life represents today.

-ann klein
-06.06

Insomnia

Beams are suddenly crashing, exploding on impact.
They now fall from the window glass, although I hear
No sound, save the occasional, distant car.

United in their cause to show me I didn’t sleep a wink
Last night, they are crashing to the floor just now,
Growing with each passing moment’s breath.

Why does nobody not hear the sliding, the crashing, surrounding,
Everything in sight, trying to melt into yellow the cooled night calm?
Daylight invades my world, the one I only know, as everyone sleeps.

If only to sleep - to sleep as Shakespeare slept before,
With syllables fantastic and dreams - to dream beautifully.
Were it even possible to rest until rest became annoying.

-ann klein
-1996

Captured Alive

They know she is terribly young,
So much smaller they.
Yet, she remains imprisoned,
To this barred bed -
And for her protection.

That is her name over there.
What has she done?
Why is she alone?
Does nobody care?

Someone is walking.
The keys are
Jingling in the hall,
As attendant comes near.

Is it food this time?
Will there be a bath?
Or, will she just pass.
She usually does.

Now, she enters
The sparse room –
Barred and covered bed,
A chair, table and lamp.

Assignment made, carried forth,
Soiled diaper weighed
And charted, as quickly as
Done, attendant is gone.

Through the corridor,
Down the hall again, she moves
Off to check another name
In this warehouse for
The cared for and not about.

-ann klein
-05.96

Comment:
When I was a kid, I lived at a children’s home. We all who were at least twelve years had jobs consisting of some work around the place. Being the opposite of the stereotypical ‘Orphan Annie’, I quite easily got what I considered to be the best job there, hospital worker. The hospital is where the infants and toddlers were kept. And, most of the time, my duty consisted of being sent down to the basement to fold diapers, about two and one-half of those industrial laundry bins a day. By age three, if the babies hadn’t been adopted, they went out into the general population. The hospital housed about twenty-five of these young ones.

Generally, the hospital kept only children at one and one-half years and older. Sometimes, the state would bring in a newborn. It was the most solemn occasion of any there at the children’s home. If for some reason a mother had to give her baby up and if other housing facilities were full, the newborn would come and stay for three days at most. There was actually a law governing this process, I was told. If a newborn hadn’t been sent out by the third day, tempers flared, softly so, but flare they did. Round the clock calls would be made. It was believed and the nurses had evidence, that survival rate at our hospital was not a good one, when babies stayed for too long.

Because of regulations, newborns were kept in isolation under dim lights while being tended to and in darkness during any other time. The newborn room was small, the size of a walk-in closet, just inside the main entrance of the hospital. Therefore, anyone coming in that entrance, walked close by it. A one-way window, a window where a person can see out but no one can see in, was a part of the door. Last, the door was locked at all times, unless a doctor was in attendance. During the doctor visit, he and one nurse would be in the nursery, while another nurse stood at the open door.

It was also mandated that no one form attachment to a newborn. God forbid a nurse would do such a thing, and the newborn, days later, could not form attachment with the adoptive parents. This was the psychology of the day. Many times, I would see a nurse checking her wristwatch, anxious for the scheduled time to visit the newborn and provide vitals, then, feed and change it. If a newborn cried and did not stop crying, the duty nurse was allowed only to go into the nursery and check vitals. Naturally, they all picked the baby up for less than a minute, but there was no mandate against doing so.

As you can see by detail, it wasn’t the hardened hearts of the nurses, which kept the babies in their charge from being loved and cuddled, rocked and whispered to. There were laws and mandates surrounding their service. Each age group had governing rules, but newborn rules seemed to be the harshest. I’m so happy, that there are no such places here in the US anymore, warehouses to store babies. But, wait…do we isolate AIDS babies? What about infants with life threatening illnesses? Overall, there are NGO’s, whose concern for young ones prevents this kind of treatment of our nation’s babies. May it be so everywhere in the not too distant future.

A Wall Away

So, you think I will mess up
Your life, that I will create chaos,
As though I can create anything
By myself.

May be you think I have that
Power. Do you think I can
Move the planets, shift the tides,
Alter the energy of the moon?
I’m just a girl – a woman.
I only react to those things.

You, you hold the power,
You maintain the world, destroy,
Rebuild in your own time
And of your own choosing.
Planets, tides, the moon;
These things you defy.

If you could touch nature,
Truly touch it,
If you could see the motion,
The movement and placement,
Then, you would understand the
Invisible shield and realize:
Anyone can build a wall, and
Anyone can steal a gesture.

Ann Klein
07.99
pic from google.com,
www.berlin-wall.org

Story Of The Sailor

In the beginning of love, we were happy,
Were one. It was so easy to see you, so
Easy to be me.

We were so free. We knew nobody cared
Or knew why we saw heaven in each other’s
Lazy stare.

I followed you. You transpired me.
And, how this whole thing started,
Was anger, jealousy.
And, now, I’m left with nothing,
Nobody else but me.

I will always be there, in music and in prayer.
You will be a sailor trying not to break...with me.

And, how this whole thing started, was anger, jealousy.
And, now, I’m left with nothing, nobody else but me.

And, if you happen to pass me one night out
On the street, I promise not to notice. It’s nobody else…
But me.

And, how this whole thing started, was anger, jealousy.
Now, I’m left with nothing, nobody else but me.

You will be my sailor,
My sailor, my sailor,
Trying not to break…with me.

Melody will hold you.
My sailor, I told you.
Listen, then, for me.

Grab onto the theory.
Grant me, thus, this chance.

You will be a sailor.
There will be a glance.
You will be a sailor.
Just stop trying not to dance.

No matter what we carry, walk through or otherwise
Abide, lives are easily broken. Just understand the
Price.

And, how this whole thing started, was anger, jealousy.
Now, I’m left with nothing, nobody else but me.

There’s no one left but me.

-ann klein
-04.06