Skip to content

November 7, 2017


by The Nuclearmind of Scott Utley


Was Johanna hinting… Johanna my sister… warn me in her own special way… her gentle, caring way? She posted a poem a few days ago… or has it been weeks? I can’t keep track of time anymore … it doesn’t matter… time … anymore …to a guy like me. She called it, “To Edith Failing”; Edith our Mom.
I am standing naked, drenched. My is head turned toward the sky. Cold rain pouring into my eyes. The cobra skinned clouds & the moon are playing tricks on my mind. After what seems like days of rain, the clouds part revealing a blue crystalised moon.
Blue dot-light stars splash across the night sky. It dawns on me that maybe Johanna is preparing ime and the world I know for the saddest moment of my life… lives really…hundreds…maybe more.
Edith is my favorite mother of all time The first mother walked out of Africa. Edith was that mother. I am grateful she chose me for a son. I guess she was looking for a challenge. Is Edith Failing? If so … will she return?

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: