Sunday, June 11, 2023

Death is Entirely Something Else



Department of Trance
Department of Dream of Levitation
Department of White Fathom
Department of Winding
Sometimes my son orders me lie down
I like when he orders me lie down            close your eyes
Department of Paper Laid Gentry
Department of Sound of Sheets of Paper
                                                                              he covers me with
then sings
I like best the smallest sounds he makes then
Department of This Won’t Sting
Am I slipping away
Department of Violet Static
as if he were a distant station
Department of Satellite
My child says you sleep
Department of Infinitely Flexible Web
and covers my face with blankness
Department of Tap-Tapping the Vein
Department of Eyelash
I can’t speak
                                  or even blink
                                                                or the page laid over my face will fall
Department of Clear Tape in Whorls and Double Helixes on the Wall
He says Mama don’t look
Department of You Won’t Feel a Thing
I cannot behold
Department of Pinprick
He will not behold
Department of Veils and Chimes
of Lungs Afloat in Ether

I like this best
Department of Spider Vein
when I am most like dead
and being with him then, Department of Notes
Struck from Thin Glasses Successively at Random
I must explain to my child that sleep
                                                               is not the same as dead
Department of Borderlessness
so that he may not be afraid of
Department of Fingertips Lightly on Eyelids
so I can lie and listen
not holding not carrying not working
Department of Becalmed                faint sound of him

                                                                                                  I am gone

His song is the door back to the room

I am composed of the notes


--Joy Katz (1963- ), American poet, from All You Do Is Perceive, 2013

Image: Simon Fieldhouse, There's no "I" in Team, 2018

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