Monday, February 04, 2008

NOW THE BODY IS FOUND


Now the body is found

I want to change the ending, blue


veins scribbled on her skin

that final note. Erase


the story: a girl runs

the highway of heat & longing


You can smell the diesel

& the unripe fruit, hard bitten plums


I want to start over.

She puts on her pink sweater


to go home, not this sprawled

star, green car speeding


the happy radio loud, no racket of grief

2.

Take away the crying

mother & the tables of wilted flowers


Set the clocks back

Tape their clanging mouths


We have too many broken wishes

Even the newspapers fly away


magpies of joy & sorrow

We could say she ran inside, thirsty


Not a drop spilled


3.

He thought he’d cut their throats.

The jukebox had bright rows


of lights, like the ones that blind

the deer, so softly stepping


in the background of the printed forest.

You know terrible things


happen. The moon still rises

her scarred face desperate


as any opened heart

2 Comments:

At February 25, 2008 4:21 PM , Blogger blog queen said...

Wow, your poems are so powerful.

I hope you are doing well. I haven't had the time for visiting round, and you've been very, very busy writing I see. I checked your other blog and saw about the shelter too. You are truly a great humanitarian. A friend of mine's brother is bi-polar and alternately lives with his parents, and then on the streets. His dad and mom are both elderly and sick themselves. She tries to help out, get him to come to where she is etc., and he won't. Now her son has been diagnosed bi-polar. I know she is scared, yet she is in such a better place to help her son than her brother.

Her comment "We don't do a very good job of helping the mentally ill in America."

So, I'm happy you are one who does.

 
At February 25, 2008 6:17 PM , Anonymous marly said...

This seems a very jarvenpa-ish story. Lots of punch to the telling, and I like that odd thread of writing that runs through it--the scribbled veins, the magpie papers, the printed forest.

 

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