I don't know why this is part of my process, but it seems to be
necessary for me to post one version, then work all day on the form;
then post again. Of course, I should just wait to post. But,
inexplicably, I can't.
You should just always ignore the first one.
Sorry.
Revision below:
There are dreams
but I sleep past them. I wake
in sun and pain. Joe
is dying and I ignore it. I bury
myself in books and
other distractions; in television
and other detachments.
My head is encased in foam. It floats
through air, cushioned,
enclosed, severed, cut from this sad
and heavy body.
My head cannot tell my heart to feel.
The connection is
broken. A broken connection can be
mended. A broken
heart is irreparable. It flies in pieces
through unforgiving
air. This head feels only the sensation
of floating, a slight
anxiety that cushioning might be
insufficient for a hard
landing. Hard-headed, hard-hearted,
I wait for the phone
to ring, but it is disconnected. They
can call and call
but I will not hear. Joe is dying far
away and later
than he wanted. He is sad because
he is going
to heaven and I won't. He is happy
because he knows
his other daughter awaits him there.
Another bright morning,
another warm day. A ribboned sky
at sunset.
On Wed, 9 Mar 2005 12:14:57 -0700, Sharon Brogan <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
--
Sharon Brogan
http://www.sbpoet.com
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