Posted tagged ‘Last poem’


May 7, 2016



When someone dies,
their face puckers.
It’s not so much a kiss

as a squeeze,
the body prised
through some other
and it is not their face

but his or hers
in that last moment’s day,
the body saying me,
even the mostly-stolen self

no longer in stealth, breathing,
oh no, oh yes,
oh my. 


Drafty poem for Brendan’s prompt on Real Toads about the harrowing and hallowed.  I’ve been on a bit of a break (mainly working and reading) and I’m not really “back” but this poem came to me, so thought I’d post.  The pic is mine but of a light sculpture by Jason Martin. 

The poem has been edited since first posting.  k.