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Mary Looser Poem
You were seventeen
I was fifteen
There were two
Then there was one
The One who is left
Mom immersed in what-ifs
Sits at the kitchen counter
Death supersedes life
My here and now disappears
Into your not-to-be future
Dad in pained denial
Runs another thousand miles
Returns with his pretender
Found in Butte Montana
Who stays awhile
Every night
Alone
Insulated by bedroom walls
The pain -- rebuffed all day
Roils up
And I understand forever
Mortality is real
The empty spaces
Tell me
Just how gone you are
But I am still here
How am I to fix this?
How am I to feel this?
How am I to be?
The One who is left
Copyright © Mary Looser | Year Posted 2010
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Details |
Mary Looser Poem
Couched in my suburban home,
through my sleepless fog.
I hear the rattle of the 3 AM train
Half a mile away
Across the freeway road.
DO NOT EVER GO UNDER A STOPPED TRAIN
Rings from my childhood
Standing one set of tracks away,
The slowly moving train drags to a stop.
I wait.
DO NOT EVER GO UNDER A STOPPED TRAIN
Thirty seconds would do it.
I could slip between the cars.
Don Roy does it. I’ve seen him.
DO NOT EVER GO UNDER A STOPPED TRAIN
Don Roy is a boy and older.
He is bigger, faster, and stronger.
I wait.
DO NOT EVER GO UNDER A STOPPED TRAIN
The 3 AM quiet returns.
The far away train passes.
I wait.
DO NOT EVER GO UNDER A STOPPED TRAIN
Copyright © Mary Looser | Year Posted 2010
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