The day your death became a possibility in my lifeA Poem by Elizabeth MooreThe Day Your Death Became A Possibility
I was rambling about meaningless things, [French tests and bullshit] selfish and fishing for your sympathy and you let me complain like you always have before finally telling me; they wanted to open your chest after fourteen years of healthy tests, to fix fix the leaky valves of your heart, pull apart your lungs and scalp the skin with polished silver tools, clear out the matter clogging your [life] blood from flowing, but how could I have known what that meant? How bad things really were? Mom’s voice was eerily cheery when she told me “father’s fine”, I was so far away.
Then I came home and saw your bruised arms and legs, your shaven belly and chest, and the eighteen inch scar like a murder wound left on the living and it wasn’t right. I’d never seen you that way; I had to make you rest, let me do the dishes, your eyes tightly shut in pain, coughing hesitantly with a heart shaped pillow that the nurse women hand-sewed for you hugged to your chest.
And we had a stoned talk about if you had died. You told me you had taught me everything you had to teach, that finishing school was the most important thing and though I was beginning to understand that murky void that could one day be [a life without you] it was still so far away, a dim and distant outline, something that the doctors had fixed and I tried to neatly tuck into backward corners of my mind.
But death is not a sneaking creature, he is a barefaced bounty hunter reminding me shamelessly of the promise he must keep. Eventually he will take you. © 2010 Elizabeth MooreReviews
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3 Reviews Added on February 21, 2010 Last Updated on September 23, 2010 Tags: death dad reaper surgery Previous Versions AuthorElizabeth MooreTallahassee, FLAboutI'm majoring in Creative Writing at Florida State University. My passion is fiction, but I love to write pretty much anything and everything. I love playing guitar and piano. I love reading boo.. more..Writing
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