There are rules about breaking rules. You can do it this way, but must not that way. Cross this line and you get dragons; cross that line you get a good natured slap on the wrist. Beneath the reflective surface of law I have found many shoals and sandbars; rocks and outcroppings, layer upon layer of blue depth I can only partly chart. I also find inquiries in this matter meet with the same reaction as asking about: yeti, crop circles, or what was kept in Uncle Author’s spare room. Those willing to talk about it I often fear to hear from and the reluctant to speak I fear to pursue. You see this investigation is just another thing from under that sea.
Look before you listen
Too often I have abandoned the infants
Of my creativity to doorways and charities
Having little patience I did not raise them
To their intended station.
Joyful parentage need not stop
At the cutting of the cord.
Down playing the importance of each birth
I leave beauty and art to be foundlings
And the province of others.
I can share the guardianship of these precious gifts
And be more than a broodmare for cunning and craft.
I have neglected things
For the promise of each new conception.
Overpopulation weakens the body of work
And leaves my portfolio listless and immature.
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault