blade sting

efbfbdopalenik2013_reflecting013

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

 

 

22 thoughts on “blade sting

    1. 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…

  1. 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!

    1. 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…

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