Cross My Heart and Hope to Write

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Monday, February 27, 2012

A Guest

So this is a poem I wrote way back in my senior year of high school. I think every poet writes a poem about a personified Death at some point or another. Alas, here is mine (or at least one of mine). It tells the story of an elderly, Southern woman who is facing her imminent mortality. She meets with her clergyman to arrange her will, before awaiting her "guest". I feel it is very visual and quaint, portraying a kind of "Americana dirge". Perhaps it will inspire you to taste your life as if it were a bit sweeter. Enjoy!


A Guest

"A penny for your thoughts."
I'll give you a penny for your thoughts...

Gently soaring
Higher!
Sore, and only wanting some hot water
For my feet.
Father, come and strangle me with your collar
And crucifix.
Take these tears from me
And let them evaporate by the windowsill
With the salt that's left, sprinkle it over my brunch
My last meal.
"God only knows, child!"
"God doesn't see." 
"Would you hold my hand, while I brush off my knees?"
I've got to write one last ballot before I leave
"You've been hard at work
And I thank you for your time."
"Death's a crime, ain't it?" 
These crocheted aggrandizements should do just fine...
"You run off now!
"I'll be well all alone.
"The day is short, and life is sprinting,
"Ya never know what toward."
Haphazardly dinting...

The dinning room is quiet.  
The grandfather clock is carrying one.
If only we could pause his singing
And breath easier...
The wind is Eastward;
The sun is in the West.
(The Moon's a sneaky child)
While weathermen watch the sky
In denial.
My tea is getting cold.
Best I put the dog out.
I can taste the lint in my pockets.
The woodgrain beneath my feet feels a bit different
Those old slippers...
I should have bought another pair,
But there's no need.
The clock is sluggish.
My friends have all gone.
The Reverend has already been arranged.
I've got my things together;
Everything seems to be in order.

Funny
Knowing all is done 
Everything is forsworn
Regret seems to covet me -   
To compose the clothes I've worn


There's the doorbell.
A guest
I've been waiting for
Standing on my stoop
As I shuffle to the door
I feel the house behind me fade
The memories it holds regress
The years spent within escaping
So it may be born again

Clear my throat.
Try to straighten my back -
Hunched and barely able to oblige.
My heart is beating a little bit slower than I'd expected
Tears finally drying from my eyes.
The door feels so heavy
The light overwhelming from the other side
The shadow there to shelter me in shade

"Are you selling me a vacuum?
"Is there some religion you wish for me to join?
"Are cookies what you inquire of me to buy?"
Holding out your corroded beggar's cup
"Charity, I see.
"I'll give you a penny for your thoughts, Death."
I wonder if they're of me...       

1 comment:

  1. "If you haven't any charity in your heart you have the worst kind of heart trouble" to cure it help people, let's unite for one good cause, be a volunteer"save lives"!mawaddainternationalaid

    ReplyDelete