Death’s Turn
Death’s Turn
How long it takes
for death to turn the stomach,
its odor as ochre as goldenseal
stopping the throat.
Unhabituated, we’re sickened, sure,
but like a child swallowing a roller coaster, gullet tense
so stretched,
we still–early on–relish the drop at the top, the spin
to our bottomless sure seat, locked guards against
our buckle.
Bitterness a supposed virtue
in the medicinal–
oh, the drama–
we even nibble
at Death’s edges, inking its stink
with a tincture of svelte shadow.
Until all those little doses climb,
like our clackety strapped cart,
to some high teeter
and of a sudden
we’ve had it up to here–
Death there–
cancer on our corner–
We want
to throw it all up–
all clots of seeming,
any empathy that even slightly smacks its lips.
We want something strong–
red wine, dark chocolate–
to take the taste–
open air,
bared arms,
time–
***************************************
Please don’t be alarmed. I’ve had no bad diagnosis, just heard bad news of a few different friends. I am doing a poem a day for April–this my third in three days–ha!–and I am also posting this for Claudia Schoenfeld’s post at dVerse Poets Pub about writing a poem about emotion that doesn’t name the emotion. Not sure if it qualifies, but know I haven’t used the word “despair” in there.
Note that I am going to have a hard time focusing on visuals this month–so they may not always fit! I thank you for your indulgence in advance. (As I say that, I realize that they often don’t fit! Oh well.)
Tags: April poem a day, child swallowing roller coaster, Death Be Not Proud Or Too Close, manicddaily, poem about death, sick of cancer poem
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ManicDDaily 
April 3, 2014 at 10:33 pm
confronted with death we can feel so helpless….esp if it is someone we care about wanting to take away the pain or the inevitable end…it def shakes us up…feeling that inner rollercoaster….
April 3, 2014 at 10:40 pm
helpless almost suffocated that despair is so unsaid but evident , brilliant
April 3, 2014 at 10:46 pm
Death comes in all its woe and steals our breath, our peace. You have so vividly given a voice to the terror that besieges us when we must watch someone walk the valley of endings.
April 3, 2014 at 10:59 pm
i’ve been confronted with some people having been diagnosed with cancer just recently in the company and it’s so tough… the despair can be clearly felt…
April 4, 2014 at 1:10 am
This is stark yet lovely. Yes, you convey the emotion very well – it totally fits the theme! 🙂
April 4, 2014 at 3:16 am
heartfelt write
April 4, 2014 at 3:43 am
Powerful metaphors reflect well your state of mind.
April 4, 2014 at 7:20 am
Strange — as you much more aptly phrase it — the precipicial thrill of getting close to death. What inks a pen better than another close brush? But the sourstink of the real deal–like the real deal–is so much more difficult. Thanks for the ride along the rim. You’re a much braver soul than I to attempt a poem a day.
April 4, 2014 at 7:33 am
Thanks, Brendan, for your kind words and thoughtful comment. k.
April 4, 2014 at 7:24 am
Imminent death brings forth the strongest emotions, the ‘despair’ as you have so eloquently written about is evident. the first stanza was a stand out for me, well penned.
April 4, 2014 at 8:29 am
This just knocked me for a loop, k–to borrow your absolutely genius metaphor–I often write casually of death as if it were just one more color on the palette, a special shade of black, no more, but here you make it all too real, and in a very subtle and convincing way. It is one of the Big Things, and too often we borrow its mojo without thinking of its devastating reality. Just excellent.
April 4, 2014 at 8:46 am
Thanks. This was the one driving me crazy on the train as I’d got drafts scribbled but my notebook wedged away and I was a bit frustrated not to be able to work on it. All fine, of course, the stop coming, people making way. Thanks again. k.
April 4, 2014 at 2:54 pm
And hopefully, space to scratch your nose. _)
April 4, 2014 at 3:00 pm
Ha. Yes. I am a terrible complainer. k.
April 4, 2014 at 10:14 am
It is inevitable, isn’t it? death? You give us the unnerving sensations related to seeing it in the near future, approaching it more rapidly than ever imagined. Strong write.
April 4, 2014 at 10:15 am
Thank you, Kim. k.
April 4, 2014 at 11:37 am
I still believe death is but a doorway, but cancer as a catalyst has always angered me. My mother died of cancer at 39 years old in 1966; “tis a shame,” one doctor said, “for one day soon we will find a cure for cancer.” Pipedreams for sure, as carcinogens abound, surrounding us, waiting for a weak moment, an unlocked door, a window ajar; trillions of dollars of research thrown at it; what folly for a species that cannot yet cure a common cold.
April 4, 2014 at 12:25 pm
This is a fantastic metaphor for life, the “clackety cart” going up and over……..I love the comfort of red wine, dark chocolate, to ease the bitter down……….so sorry about your friends. Cancer is everywhere now.
April 4, 2014 at 1:57 pm
Thanks, Sherry. k.
April 4, 2014 at 2:07 pm
I especially like how you use smell and sight in the beginning to describe the helplessness when confronted with this… love it.
April 4, 2014 at 7:06 pm
Oh, wow. A powerful reminder of how precious time (and our health) really is. I especially like:
we even nibble
at Death’s edges, inking its stink
with a tincture of svelte shadow
April 4, 2014 at 7:38 pm
Thank you. So sorry to hear about your mother. So hard. k.
April 4, 2014 at 10:33 pm
The word death brings visions of darkness but, there is light through the doorway for the departed..the ones that are left
behind feel the sting of death..just my thoughts..I think you captured the emotions well in your writing.
April 5, 2014 at 6:49 pm
I liked the visual – fear, dread, despair – all here I think. I like your word choices, your juxtaposition, your roller coaster metaphor – as there is such a seduction of death by the young and later such a revulsion and fear. Well played, my dear.
I’m doing April Poetry too. I kept my challenge small – haiku/am. sentences with a photo a day. It’s a worthy challenge. I’ll try to stop by when I can.
April 5, 2014 at 6:52 pm
Good luck, thanks. k.