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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3930 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Coffins Lauriette (Laurie Byro) When they took the Concorde out of the sky, grounded its wings, I lay in a metal coffin, contemplating death. The technician was kind, wiped tears and said, “Be still or this won’t work.” I know a woman who writes long, stanza less poems and while I’ve never been able to write that way, without that pause, I know what she means about breath. I was on an ocean somewhere which brought me to Walt Whitman and his rolling sea of words. Which reminds me of your body and sex. I was in the thick of rollicking waves, using you as a raft and the buoyancy of your bad boy bashfulness brought me closer and closer to that freeing which reminds me of death. I was innocent the first time and you said in your gentle way, “We both need to rest.” As if too much would drown us. But here I am, alone, and knowing that we are ultimately alone. This freeing of illness and despair, this healing of soul sickness. And just as quickly as this hour began, the technician pulled me back into the world with its hot lights and asked “Are you all right?” And I blinked saying “Call me Ishmael.” |
