IS THERE — FOUND POEM, DAY 8

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I can't think of a picture to illustrate this one with. Sometimes this write a poem a day with prompts thing feels a little like some kind of therapy. Like, I really didn't know I was going to write about what I'm writing about, but there you go.

"Write something you cannot remember: a memory of something – a story, an anecdote, a song, another poem, a recipe, an episode of a television program, anything, that you only partially or imperfectly remember. Write multiple versions, at least 6, of this memory."

IS THERE

Is there is a door
Is there is a door leading to the outside
Outside is better than inside
Inside, a miasma of conflict
I've got feet that'll take me anywhere,
anywhere but here

Is there is a store
Is there is a store not far
Is there is a store with cigarettes
and O'Henry bars, one bad for the lungs,
the other bad for the skin
Is there or is there not a bottle of pop

Is there is a mountain
Are there roads that lead to paths 
that lead to hills that go up the mountain 
Is there is a favourite route I take
Over the creek on the fallen tree
Up     up     up

Is there nightfall
Are there lights on in the houses below so far away
they look like bridge lights reflecting on the lake
Do they, one by one, go out

Am I there for the whole long, dark, cold, 
back-against-a-rock, what-if-there's-a bear night 
A soul-searching night, though I don't know that term
Am I cold all night
Am I terrified of every sound

Am I hungry, the O'Henry bars gone,

cigarettes the same,

amazed I’ve done this thing

Do I see my mother in the morning

Is she looking over the edge of the bank

Do I recognize relief when she sees me

Do I shrug her off, regardless

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