Disappeared

JULIE CHAPPELL

March 26, 2020

I must have been about 3 or 4 when,

one day, I stepped silently between

a china cabinet and another tall piece

and disappeared, uncharacteristically quiet

as I waited and watched my parents, first,

call my name, then, still calling, move 

frantically downstairs, upstairs, outside,

searching for their lost child, while I, calculated

the precise moment to appear, out of thin air

to be embraced, cherished, loved at last.

That memory came unbidden to me a few

days ago while I sat staring, not mindless,

but unfocused, waiting, watching life as usual

outside my window, the movement of Nature

as it unveils this year’s Spring colors and critters,

all the forest striving in fraught, anxious beats,

while I wait and watch in fraught, anxious beats,

disappeared, testing not the limits of love

but of human arrogance and Nature’s revenge.

JULIE CHAPPELL is recently retired from Tarleton State University in Texas as Professor of early British literature and creative writing. She has read her creative works widely, including venues in California, New Mexico, Kansas, Texas, and Oklahoma. Her poetry has appeared in a number of anthologies and journals, including Malpaïs Review; Voices de la Luna; Concho River Review; Stone Renga; and Speak Your Mind. Her latest poetry collection, Mad Habits of a Life, was published by Lamar University Literary Press in early 2019.