Sunday, April 25, 2021

On the Occasion of My Own Eventual but Still Impending Death

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I'm at the "will this month never end" stage. Today I wrote two drafts of new poems for an online course, got one off to CV2's 10-word/48-hour contest, and just finished watching a poetry reading. I was about to slink off to bed or something when I remembered I haven't yet done today's poem.

An occasional poem. As in, for an occasion. (After Michael McClure's Death Poems)




On the Occasion of My Own Eventual but Still Impending Death

who in the mirror is that exactly
inching ever closer
to the end
the fence in the curtilage disintegrating
to the point there is no longer a curtilage
and the neighbour 
has put up
a fence of their own
suggesting in a passive
if slightly aggressive manner
they'd like mine to go

I'm 

g
o
i
n
g

a
l
r
e
a
d
y

don't need reminders
will stop the damned clock
before it stops itself
before the battery 
runs 
                                                                                                                                out

(all our batteries 
running out)

refrain from looking in mirrors
take down fences
that curtail life

exactly who is that in the mirror
who thinks this way
talks this way
wonders yet doesn't 
about how
where
why
it will end
this life

don't fence me in
goes the song
and I'm transported to a house
babysitting for a baby
who always slept
bless it
while I listened to Frankie Laine
on the old record player
don't fence me in


mirror mirror on the wall
who the fuck is that

remember when 
her hair was black
now 
her face is gaunt
her eyes are blurred

*

remember when nothing ached
not
a finger
or 
an ankle
or
a heart

now I'm headed for the range
and still 
there are fences
to mend

w
h
o
'
s

t
h
a
t

p
r
e
t
t
y

g
i
r
l

in the mirror there

whose clock is that

who started it

and

who is changing 
the batteries


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2 comments:

judydykstrabrown.com said...

Wow. We really were on the same wave length, Linda.Well done and original..the presentation, not the theme, which has become ubiquitous in my thinking...

Linda Crosfield said...


Thanks, Judy. I think it's a work in progress. (Like life)