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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4683 Registered: 11-1998 |
Poem of the Week Hospital Bed Karen Corcoran Dabkowski (Razorwire) Iron I am. A metal frame. I know your truest face. Pain I've held, and blood where ghosts take form. Families fear my shape. At death's approach, I hold the last, least glimpse of love. Mother, daughter, son wink out of life and out of grasp -- I hold your fears foursquare. I am the last bed, the last bead to pray upon. Visions too I keep that ring of joy. Newborn limbs I've seen that seem as slippery as fish will, squid-like, wriggle from the womb onto my waiting, vestured back. I am an altar and a rack on which extremes are twofold strung. A sword I bear within the sheets – I wring the night, I wrap the sweet. |
