Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Oddly Alive

Dreamed I couldn’t get out, couldn't utter
a word. Reduced to a sputtering stutter.

Everything blocked: no way to get past.
My mother dreamed something like this as she crept toward her last.

She was sitting alone on a bench at a bus-stop and couldn't get up.
No longer half-full or half-empty: no cup.

No bus would arrive.
Emblem of how at the end she felt oddly alive.


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