we near death are not yet as
pocket lint…soft gray felting
re-mem-brance
instead…
we are crisp ironed alpine forest
spice thread saffron…and we
blush carnadine to water with
our hands
your conversation in the other room
is noisome to us as mosquito drone
and if we gaze at you as if we
do not comprehend it is because
we do…hear over under ‘round
above and through you
did you know…inside…we laugh
at…do not go gentle…lost the battle
did you know at brink we do not care
for tissue rustle dry cough tearless
we dismiss your presence…and
we know our blade stings and…how
soon you’ll heal the cut
Bonnie Marshall
Art by Elizabeth Opalenik
Proem... 
“for tissue rustle dry cough tearless”….I don’t imagine there has ever been a line quite like this one! Another gem!
Probably not, Jana…thinking how blessedly unique we are, you fine poet. Despite the moody thoughts, we are at heart a merry band. You know I thank you.
Aging is difficult, for we are in the beginning of the process, for our parents who are at the end. Your poem captures the nobility we try to maintain.
I value your insight, Sharon, and your visits. I’ve an empty pill bottle on my writing desk to remind me that when I write poetry my mind stays engaged in life. Smiles…
I’m only 56, but I’m sure this has been happening for a good 18 years already … still: today’s another day
Oh, then Mark after you are 50 you’ve reached the dessert years! Congratulations, and know that what you have ahead of you will be rich with accumulated wisdom and breathing space. Smiles…
Somehow a wonderful prickly discomfort in the feel of it. Great stuff!
Seems like a long time ago, Simon, you wrote an encouraging comment for me on “And I Shall Lie Me Down.” You couldn’t know at the time, so I’m telling you now, that your reassurance helped me through an important learning time. Smiles…
Xxx
Smiles…
i empathize with the anger and spirit of “we dismiss your presence.” and i admire the courage expressed: “at brink we do not care.” courage and spirit are exemplified in the stanza that includes “crisp ironed alpine forest/ spice thread saffron…and we/ blush carnadine to water with our hands.” bravo!
I’m indebted to you Michael, for although this was in draft, it did not have the point of view I knew it needed, and then I read your “I travel to the heavens,” which inspired me to think hard-edged. Means…we both understand, and there is comfort there. Smiles…
how wonderful to read of the synergy. yes, there is comfort there.
Smile…
So intelligent!
Aww…quite a meaningful comment from a soon to be Dr. Nancy Marshall. Smiles…and I’m not thinking of going anywhere soon.
A lovely poem, Bonnie, you express sorrow and grief elegantly.
Good of you to write and say so, for I appreciate knowing what readers think. Smiles…
hauntingly said and more doors open…i felt this deeply…
I think there’s truth in it, John, so your validation is important to me. Very grateful.
I want to think that I will not go gentle into that good night but I suspect you are right that at brink we do not care. Beautiful imagery Bonnie.
Thank you, Malcolm. I hope there is truth in it…how philosophical we become as years add up. Smiles.