Thursday, April 08, 2010

After this last death,

After this last death,

I dreamt I lost at musical chairs, was forced to stand.

Strangers shoved me toward the outside door.

Fear stirred anger, overwhelmed grief.

Fierce, I yelled, “Don’t push me!”

Noise, smells, rushing.

Would out be better than in?

I turned the doorknob.

Cool, dark, quiet. Rustles.

Arms folded under my tight chest, I leaned

against the trunk of a tulip magnolia.

Nubs and edges of the massive tree scratched

so I stepped away, dropped my arms, opened my palms.

Breezes teased the insides of my elbows.

Dead family murmured, circled my wrists,

pulled me down the path. I was surprised by ease.

No comments: