cherub
Bluelighter
Our next poem of the week author has visited this forum off and on for awhile, this piece especially touched us in the way it was written and the details of how it formed it existence. Sometimes through pain, comes words that can touch others and make us think about life.
awesome work!
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A picture *heart wrenching, may not wanna read* 19-02-2004
by roliepolie
You in my camera --
rodent-faced curled
like a last bean in an emptied sack
fist pressed to bloodless lips
still curly hair proud against hospital-white
brow intent focused on sleep
-- or fighting it
Why have I carried this camera?
Did I expect you to say "Moneeeeee"
freezing into your fullest grin
then laugh like you hadn’t done this
all those many happy Sundays of your girlhood?
Did I expect to see you? I see
that photo hung in your hall
that tiny child you
less than one month old
I try to focus on the differences
My smile your frown
my sprawl your curl
-- your yellow tubes
I almost believe
you don’t want to wake for me
That you demand yellow liquid
be dripped into your nose
Because you think it regal
Because you think it righteous
not to eat or wake
I bow and kiss your warm head
your skin like a cotton blanket
I say, "Please, hear me say good-bye."
Then once you stir
your disconnected eyes roll lazily in your head
and I fear you might crack open
might split suddenly and spill
-- nothing
"You are the only one who never left me,"
I tell you, though I think you might not hear
So I close over your tired ear
whispering, "Andrea, be brave and die."
awesome work!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A picture *heart wrenching, may not wanna read* 19-02-2004
by roliepolie
You in my camera --
rodent-faced curled
like a last bean in an emptied sack
fist pressed to bloodless lips
still curly hair proud against hospital-white
brow intent focused on sleep
-- or fighting it
Why have I carried this camera?
Did I expect you to say "Moneeeeee"
freezing into your fullest grin
then laugh like you hadn’t done this
all those many happy Sundays of your girlhood?
Did I expect to see you? I see
that photo hung in your hall
that tiny child you
less than one month old
I try to focus on the differences
My smile your frown
my sprawl your curl
-- your yellow tubes
I almost believe
you don’t want to wake for me
That you demand yellow liquid
be dripped into your nose
Because you think it regal
Because you think it righteous
not to eat or wake
I bow and kiss your warm head
your skin like a cotton blanket
I say, "Please, hear me say good-bye."
Then once you stir
your disconnected eyes roll lazily in your head
and I fear you might crack open
might split suddenly and spill
-- nothing
"You are the only one who never left me,"
I tell you, though I think you might not hear
So I close over your tired ear
whispering, "Andrea, be brave and die."
