I finished the chapter about “Death and Grief” in The Poet’s Companion today. The authors, Kim Addonizio and Dorianne Laux close with, “Though death is a large subject, the way it enters our lives is often small: an object left behind, the memory of an offhand gesture made one long-ago afternoon, the smell of a T-shirt, the silly joke or absurd irony someone would have appreciated.”
I decided to try my hand at this specific imagery, and this is the result.
She displayed the ransom note
with delight on the refrigerator
which soft hum masked the sound of sleep
dripping into her veins.
Hospital bed in pride of place, Christmas
festooned the mantle that hot July; white
lay cool upon once plump cheeks
and ornamental Enterprise flew between
Cut from magazines and time
the glossy letters demanded reunion,
long ago paid in exchange for that plastic
symbol of hope and discovery.
This time no win, no ransom possible
for her crew, held hostage
as she explored
where others had gone before.
Feel free to make constructive suggestions for improvement. 🙂