The Day Your Death Became A Possibility

 

The Day Your Death Became a Possibility

 

terrible visions stormed through my head

like scenes from a black and white movie

[the phone call �" stuffing an escaping

scream to my chest, those tears trying to

strangle - driving home a numb and

silent dummy- and then like

some sick and twisted finale of

your life, the funeral]

these possibilities threatened,

were assuredly impending,

snuck upon me unsuspecting

and left me wet cheeked, but

not embarrassed in the least.

 

That day I was rambling about

meaningless things

[French tests and bullshit]

selfish and fishing for your

sympathy, and you let me complain

[like you always have]

before finally telling me;

they wanted to open your

chest after fourteen years

of healthy tests, wanted to fix

[leaky valves]

your heart,

to pull apart your lungs,

to scalp the skin with polished

silver tools and clear out

the matter clogging your

[life]

blood from flowing,

but how could I have

known what that meant,

how bad things really were?

Mom’s voice was eerily cheery

when she told me “father’s fine”,

I was so far away.

 

Then I came home and

saw your bruised arms and

legs, your shaven belly and

chest, and the eighteen inch

scar like a murder wound left

on the living and it wasn’t right.

I’d never seen you that way,

so weak and out of your element

[ I had to make you rest,

let me do the dishes]

eyes tightly shut in pain,

coughing hesitantly with a

heart shaped pillow

[the nurse women hand-sewed it for you]

hugged to your chest.

 

And we had a stoned talk

about if you had died.

You told me you had

taught me everything you

had to teach, that finishing

school was the most important

thing and as you said

the words I knew I would

always them and that moment.

 

And though I was beginning

to understand that murky void that

could one day be

[a life without you]

it was still so far away,

a dim and distant outline,

something that the doctors had fixed and

I tried to neatly tuck into

backward corners of my mind.

 

But death is not a sneaking creature,

he is a barefaced bounty hunter

reminding me shamelessly

of the promise he must keep.

 From time to time I hear him

whisper in my ear

[I cannot hold him off forever,

eventually he will take you].

 

Reviews

[Bette]

wow. this is a touching piece of work " something that the doctors had fixed and

I tried to neatly tuck into backward corners of my mind." great flow.
i look forward to reading more.

[Antonio Valentino]

Lena, this writing was so strong and brilliant.
I hope you share more of your talent with us.

So sorry for this sad part going on with your family.
Blessings to you and your's

Have a pleasant evening.
Antonio

[Coyote Poetry]

A powerful poem. Death will come when he desired. I like the story in the poem. The ending was perfect. The story was strong and sad.
Coyote