on contemplating your death, a poem

illustration on contemplating your death illustration on contemplating your death brain image

ON CONTEMPLATING YOUR DEATH

 

(originally published in the Panhandler Magazine)

 

This is not heroism, this slow

nod to absolutes, numb acquiescence

to facts.  I perform the worst

 

sort of cowardice: cutting the lines

free before it’s over. I can feel

the steps away from you, the slow

 

casting off from love, the mournful

horns, departing from this foggy

land of illness.  When you didn’t

 

know me, when your hands danced

above the forgotten teacup, squeezing

a lemon primly into thin air,

 

you had a kind of ruddy stubbornness

I was shocked to see.  After that,

your pale and knowing return was

 

anticlimax.  You had gone another

way, in your blue cap, your skin hot,

glossy as if with fever, the surface

 

papery-soft but no longer familiar.

I hoped you were angry once more,

even as you slept.  I expected to

 

cry more, to feel something else,

to be more like you.  Nothing here

is how I imagined it, not this slow

 

nod to absolutes, not this languid

overflow of salt water — aching

bones, a past no longer claimed.

 

5 Comments

Filed under poetry

5 responses to “on contemplating your death, a poem

  1. the stroke of your hand works wonders.thanks for following my blog

    Like

  2. I have to tell you that it’s hard to find your posts in google, i found this one on 19 spot, you should build some quality backlinks in order to
    rank your site, i know how to help you, just search in google
    – k2 seo tips and tricks

    Like

  3. I found this very moving.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s