12th of Never
by Caldwell Phillips
Thursday, September 26, 2002
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Talk to me of yesterday,
of things undone,
I still need you. Stay.
Please, just the way you were.
I remember the departure,
that October morning.
I always loved the autumn and could
scarcely await to go outside.
Our skates still here, the key to them lost.
I asked you out to breakfast, with Steve
you wouldn’t, couldn’t,
saying to me that
you didn’t feel well.
I looked around the room,
failing to notice you held
your chest in a discolored fist.
The doctor had explained
the pain away. Possibly pleurisy,
prescribed breathing treatments
and antibiotics which weren’t
kicking in. (not to mention my valiums).
With a niggling-naggling I went
to breakfast with my latest flirtation.
It was a striking day,
The 12th of never.
I welcomed the oily smells
of the greasy spoon, yellow eggs
and something to pass for meat.
I was lulled by the background chatter
of other patrons, whisk scraping bowl,
the awful in-between of a knife poised
to resize my portion of contentment.
Midbite, I sensed that descending
Blade, knew exactly where
it would sever. I lashed
had him race that cool roadster
XKE, arriving too late.
I watched the paramedics try
to stun you back. You twisted,
jerked like a broken marionette.
“Clear!” they shouted again
and again, the only spike
when they applied the volts.
Otherwise, a flat line. You wouldn’t open
your baby blues.
They carried you on a gurney,
covered you with a stiff sheet
(I grabbed your exposed toe to pray,
“God, please take me instead. He has two sons:
a daughter, another on the way.”
ensconced you in that big white,
wheeled cube, screaming cherries on top.
The last hasty parade.
Once, people used to question
the tolling of the bells,
ancestors of our modern
rubber-necks, the technology changes,
sirens now, but still that morbid curiosity.
The ambulance left a pitiful wake,
flotsam, a handful of inquisitive neighbors,
your pregnant wife, the tributary
of tears I still leak when the days grow
longer every year.
I lived on, but nothing
mattered. I drank myself
insane. Maxed it out, body, mind,
waxed it old, made myself weary,
died, wanting to join you.
A new life stirred,
earsplitting to be born.
Your niece came next,
The above text is copyright ©Caldwell Phillips 2002, and may not be reproduced without permission.
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|Reviewed by Tinka Boukes
|this one moved my emotions love
|Reviewed by Tami
|I loved Mike as a brother too and miss him lots. Love, Twinkie|
|Reviewed by Elizabeth Taylor (Reader)
|Talk to me of yesterday,
of things undone...
Well done. ~E
|Reviewed by Marilyn Seray
|Janet, this was exceptional. So mournful. Fantastic images and deep feelings.|
|Reviewed by jude forese
|a beautifully written lamentful poem that reaches into the soul...|
|Reviewed by Sherri;yn
|He was the love of my life. he was my everything. He was my life. We sure made some pretty kids!|
|Reviewed by Theresa Koch
|He stands by you still and loves you soooo much Janet..The pain you feel is like a knife to my soul this poem was exceptional!
He is always with you friend just reach out and feel his embrace.....
|Reviewed by Mitzi Jackson
|grippin....sad and strength!!!
the words tugged and i hurtfully enjoyed it!!!
|Reviewed by Dallas Franklin
|Janet, this is absolutely the best! I just love it. He's definitely with you always, you are loved. I think he's smiling down upon you~~~~~~~~~Love, Dallas
|Reviewed by Nellie Feng
|I am certain he is still very much with you in spirit,Jan, for those we love live on through our cherished rememberings.|
|Reviewed by Lori Moore
|A beautiful write... and a creative theme. Love the title... and the song that shares the name.|
|Reviewed by mike
|Reviewed by Dens Dreamweaver (Reader)
|Oh what a chilling tale... told only as you can....|