Galway Kinnell’s Book of Nightmares in the ICU
at 3 am i leave my own mind
like some weathered piece of luggage
& wake up screaming
next to beeping machines
i think about the first book
i ever bought with my own money
& the dark paths i could only imagine then
& it isn’t the steady hand
of kinnell’s polished lines
that get me through the night anymore
but sammi smith’s sad soft voice
that somehow remains
in long hallways of wanting
& the bravery of ford swetnam’s tears
from an idaho hospital bed
writing down poems in his final days
that’s what i want
a little soul
the only thing that stops
your voice from cracking
when you can no longer
see the sun.
You Are Not Going to Die on Wednesday
for rebecca schumejda
traditionally somebody has to
whether they have cancer
or get hit by a truck full of melons
on an invisible freeway
paved with tar & blood
smeared on the faces of the dead
like the war paint
of forgotten summer days
but not you
you are loved
you are going to be fine
& when you do go
you’ll be light as a feather.
The Prettiest Girl in the Cancer Ward
is probably someone you never met
with a sad low voice
that sinks into the walls of your heart
every note jumping from her lungs
like a picture postcard
taken on the deck
of the titanic.
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